I go about darkened, but not by the sun; I stand up in the assembly and cry for help.
For you are the God in whom I take refuge; why have you rejected me? Why do I go about mourning because of the oppression of the enemy?
I say to God, my rock: “Why have you forgotten me? Why do I go mourning because of the oppression of the enemy?”
I am utterly bowed down and prostrate; all the day I go about mourning.
Behold, I cry out, ‘Violence!’ but I am not answered; I call for help, but there is no justice.
My lyre is turned to mourning, and my pipe to the voice of those who weep.