Why Am I Here For?

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"Why am I here? This is tiring," I spoke to the mirror,

Staring at the reflection, willing it to become clearer,

She stands unblinking, then tilts her head,

"Why are you here?" She asks me,

"Is it to be deprived of love, of belonging, of wine and bread?"

A shake of her head, and then a sad smile,

"Are you going to have the answer take a while?"

A hitched sigh, tears falling,

Barely hearing the mirror calling,

Choked sobs, garbled words,

"I can't do this, God, just kill me, please! How it hurts..."

Hands on the sink, head hung low,

The Reflection watches, her compassion grows,

Hands on the mirror, pushing through,

To initiate embrace, and in a whisper that broke through the silent screams,

"Beloved, we'll make it through. We always do."

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