【我的坏爸爸】 -Increasing thoughts about death just seemed to come over me. -Um, these, uh... -A preoccupation with my own mortality. -These... feelings of futility in relation to my work. -I mean, just what am I striving to create anyway? -I mean, to what end? For what purpose, what goal? -I mean...Do I really care if a handful of my poems are read after I'm gone?Is that supposed to be some sort of compensation?
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