"We've won!"

You sit there on top of a pile of rubble and cheer, waving wildly and happily. You all hug each other, you can't believe it. You just can't believe you're luck! You did everything wrong, everything bad, everything rotten, and nobody could touch you. You killed, raped, bombed, poisoned, maimed, tortured, and nobody could do a God-damn thing. Nothing. You won. You won and the world lost. You won, you keep telling yourself. That's all that matters. It doesn't matter that nobody wants you, that nobody wants your rotten ideology and beliefs, your living death. You can now redecorate everything so it is as ugly on the outside as you are on the inside. You think you can anyway. But you haven't won. To win we have to want you, and we don't want you. We don't want your guns, your bombs, your rockets, your lies. We've had enough.

You can't win, you'll never win. So long as there is one person who says that you are liars, that what you are doing is wrong, you can never win. That's why you have to keep fighting and killing. You know we're right, and you know you can never rest until every last person who remembers where you people came from and what you did is dead and under the ground. You want the truth buried so that you can live and enjoy the fruits of your ill-gotten gains. But we're alive, and we're coming for you. Keep telling yourself you've won. You'll be saying that all the way to the gallows, and you'll be cut off mid-sentence as you drop the short distance of rope. And that'll be all you've won, four feet of rope.