The Mandarin Tree
The Mandarin Tree existentialism stories
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capricollins
capricollinsCommunity member
Autoplay OFF  •  a year ago
A free-verse poem for seasonal depression

The Mandarin Tree

Born on a Thursday, I’ll die in a Monday.

The early sun sets into a pool of serotonin, soaks it all up and hoards it in a cave for 4 months.

I don’t want to spend a third of my life wearing sunglasses at night and staring dead-eyed at the back of my wrist,

waiting for the moment to realise I can’t fucking see and I look like a moron.

Unstoppable Force Vs. Immovable Object: My placebo ideologies and a tradition of ruined even numbers.

Over-inflated with mortal infinity, I’m too excited to enjoy myself.

Existential Libra with a prescription for indecision.

My fear of open water grows stronger, but I consider conquering it by counting to 42

from the center of a swimming pool.

Picture this: a mandarin tree that pulls out it’s own leaves once the fruit’s not in season and stagnates with empty branches

until the Summer sun reminds it’s skin to breathe again.

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