A Piece of Short Writing

This is descriptive writing. I'm reading A Clockwork Orange so obviously this is where the majority of my ideas are coming from. I wanted this pieces to accomplish anger and I believe it did this very well. If I had more time to revise this piece then I would most likely just add more to it. It would have been longer and more descriptive. But I guess that's how everything is.

Like oranges in a vineyard, we are all the same. We move like clockwork with brains that make us seem like individuals. The gears and oiled parts are pieces of the orange sleek with sticky juice. The tree is of our family and connected we all remain. Choice comes out of the false belief of identity. Predestination seems right from what I say, but it is also untrue. It implies there is a end and a destination for us to travel to and remain, but there is no destination. The road of life leads to a winter of falling to the cold ground, and letting the dirt and rock sip our juice, our carbon into its interior. The juice is then transferred to a seed and that seed grows another orange with the same capabilites and thoughts as all the other oranges except with a different time and different clothes and different styles and different ways of speaking and different ways of making the clockwork move for eighty years, but at the end of all of it, the clockwork remains the same and the same juice creates the gears movement. Because as a fruit, the seeds are inside ourselves. Click click click.