Her secret.

She drew out her dagger, slicing the rubber tree, again and again,

The opaque liquid oozing out of it, just as her heart bled,

The tree demanded that it be stabbed repeatedly,

Her heart had the same story….

Her dagger pierced the softest spot,

Without any mercy, she ripped it open…

As the warm sap dripped, so did the tears trickle down.

By now it was unknown who was stabbing whom?

It was the forest’s best-kept secret.

Were men hurting it… or was it a masochist?