I have discovered, to my delight and dismay, that there is a substance in the world with amazing magical properties. This substance isn't found everywhere, only in certain places. With it you wield the greatest power. Without it you are as nothing. 
      Those given this power are ordinary mortals, just like you, who seem to be just like you, but once they have this substance in their possession they are changed by it. Nothing is ever enough for them once they have it, and nary will they give up a dram of it to those in need. Beyond all comprehension they act as despots, rulers without mercy, employing their new-found power to satisfy every desire it can possibly fulfill. 
      Those without this magical substance are ones bereft, shivering in dark places, relegated to dank environs, and looked upon with pity. To these afflicted the rest of the world is mainly unaware (and thus unable) to come to their aid. The local governors, those who are aware and in position to render aid, gaze with unflinching eye upon the distress of the afflicted for the governors only employ this magical substance to achieve their objectives. They do not themselves possess it, but give it to others, bestow it upon them, as reward. These boons, granted, are highly prized. The governor's blessing "Do what thou will with it!" is then given the fortunate whilst those lacking the substance are treated by the same governing forces with a disdain bordering on villainous and unchristrian. How can such a thing be?

 "Is it not unfair that ones should have so much, and others so little?!” beseech the greatly displeased. “After all, are not people equal in the eyes of God?".
      "No!" say they, the possessors of the alchemical elixir. "'Tis fair that we have a greater quantity, for we are special! Different. Above and beyond the rest. No one can save you". 
      "But you can!” plead the lesser-than. "You, who have this astonishing potion, can show us mercy!"
"Nay!" say they, and the door slams shut. 
  Decades of this unfair and unethical treatment can pass, the powerful growing ever the more, the wretched slowly accruing, but never will they be able to match the power of those above them, who lord over them still (and undoubtedly will) until the bitter end. 
  No misery is greater than this, no offense more grievous, no chance at respite more hopeless, no cruelty more pronounced. 
  Those that have the fairy dust would argue that it is not so, things are not as bad as they seem. They downplay the impoverished one's suffering and ofttimes jest about it, telling them that they once knew of the astounding bleakness they're experiencing, the lack, the lesser chance at life, and survived it. 
    "But (if you ever did) that was so long ago!" howl the afflicted. "You, who claim to understand suffering, bring to us ever the more of it! We are not blind to your smirking at our travail, passing us by with thinly-veiled aversion, treating us with condescending air, and overall despising our very presence as if we were lepers. You once had no Golden Ticket! You once knew of pain! How can you be so heartless, so desensitized, so monstrous? So... ....inhumane?!”
    "We hear you not. Go away!”
    And again, the door slams. 
    Muttering, the disenfranchised shuffle away, only to dream, to scheme, to plot, to hope, to wonder when, or if ever, enough of the wondrous, strategic, and fabulously potent resource that the exalted have will come their way. Glorious, it’ll be, that day when they’ll see bright daylight again! On that day where they'll walk proud amongst their fellow men, heads held high and with confident hearty laughter, be enjoying life again!
  But alas, alas! 'Tis not yet!

Another night shift looms. Another night to only fantasize-

       -about having SENIORITY.