Without A Chance Of Escape (English Sonnet) Poem by Gert Strydom

They did women and of the little girls rape,
the innocent was both tortured and slain,
no civilian was give a chance to escape,
a boy did nothing to the Russians explain.

In Bucha at burned tanks and an armoured car
prowled a lonely cat where dead Russians lay
and their plundering convoy is now far.
The inhumanities of their acts eternally stay.

The smell of decaying flesh is in the air,
at a trench the smell of death catch up with me
and right here some people do not have a care,
does not this want to know or have empathy.

I am cursed and a liar made with hate:
Afrikaners cannot this to Russians relate.

[Poet's note: I have kept to the absolute truth, and did research news articles into the finest detail before I write and still I am slandered and taken on personally rather than these people commenting on the poetry.]