'hell' with your toast and it's sharp marmalade.
Croissants and coffee and death and destruction,
stories of suffering; a nation afraid.
The wireless chirps about rampant inflation,
with programmes of fear depression and dread.
The hope that this year would rise like a beacon,
of light mid our darkness,
lay dead in its bed.
Defiant; besieged they stoically fight,
to the death; to the end; for Ukraine and its lands!
'til the bombing falls silent,
and the dust finally settles,
and Putin's the one,
with their blood on his hands.
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