I am feeble and crushed; I groan because of the tumult of my heart.
For when I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long.
For my sighing comes instead of[1] my bread, and my groanings are poured out like water.
I go about darkened, but not by the sun; I stand up in the assembly and cry for help.
We all growl like bears; we moan and moan like doves; we hope for justice, but there is none; for salvation, but it is far from us.
My inward parts are in turmoil and never still; days of affliction come to meet me.