Unexpectantly Mark detested himself ? for being so brainless at times, for the lack of ideas within his head when there was meant to be lucifer time to think. Our man reassured himself that he was not consentient in blame. Song writing is a passion for him. The flout of the gust and agony within the lyrics of songs by hard-rockers had served as a form of inspiration. He felt empathy, similarity to how the rockers bang about life. Mark?s collection of self-composed songs have hints of grossness every now and then, even though the man knew that he will never lease his sensitive fellow Singaporeans to separate them. A talent left undiscovered.

Sighing, Mark resolved in attaining some peace. He broke from his mess of thoughts, closing his notebook- his individualise ?Thoughts from a cynic ? with no reference to Confucius? sayings?. He perpetual the compact book in his underwear drawer, which is an impossible evolve from his nosey younger sister. Mark grabbed his guitar, strummed to some nonsensica...If you want to jump a full essay, order it on our website:
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