I tried to do you justice, but it wasn't enough.
I thought I was giving my all, my best, but it turns out that you were worth so much more.
And now all that's left of me is the deep pain within longing for your honor to be met.
It was my job, my duty to fulfill, and I was close enough to know how important you really were.
You built up run-down, dingy, dirty cities into majestic sun-filled palaces.
You picked up diseased and dying infants and nursed them into strong, beautiful children.
You showed a neighbor with no direction and no respect how to sacrifice and bleed for others.
And in all this, you broke your back, deformed your feet, and exhausted your brain...all for a vision.
It was I who was supposed to proclaim your deeds, your humility, your sacrifice, your feats.
I said 'thank you', I said 'Good Job!'
But I was supposed to tell you that your work was not in vain. That your vision was fulfilled.
But alas, you couldn't see it, you didn't know it.
And when it was over, you left...defeated, destroyed, humiliated.
With your victory ready to be claimed, you left. You let go, and it fell through your grasp.
When I should have screamed, I spoke.
When I should have fought, I disagreed.
When I should have gave it my all, my every-part-of-my-entire-being, I only gave it justice.
Oh if I would have my one more chance to scream and fight and sacrifice, I would tell them that they didn't win, they didn't succeed, because you're every sacrifice was worth it. Every deformity and pain and sickness and bloody, sweaty sacrifice brought this little boy a chance at life. And here I stand, because of you. Though too late, I still have a voice and a message. Give it all, fight on, and scream away, because we are winning, and we have won.