Underneath the mango tree,
frolics a child wild and free,
chanting a sweet lullaby
of laughter and play.
The sparkle in her eye
could make a cynic's day.
Underneath the mango tree,
hides a child weeping desperately,
humming a wretched melody
of silent screams and devoured innocence.
Her clenched fists and forlorn eyes
could turn a stoic's vigor into impotence.
Underneath the mango tree,
lies a sacred graveyard
of tales untold,
of muffled cries,
of a childhood by sheer monstrosity scarred.
