For my days of happiness have gone up in smoke. My body is raging with fever, my heart is sick, and I’m consumed by this illness— withered like a dead leaf. I can’t even eat. I’m nothing but skin and bones. Nothing’s left of me but whispered groans. I’m like a pelican of the wilderness, like an owl among the ruins. I’m sleepless, shivering in the cold, forlorn, and friendless, like a lonely bird on the rooftop. My every enemy mocks and insults me incessantly. They even use my name as a curse to speak over others! Because of your great and furious anger against me, all I do is suffer with sorrow, with nothing to eat but a meal of mourning. My crying fills my cup with salty tears! In your wrath you have rejected me, sweeping me away like dirt on the floor. My days are marked by the lengthening shadows of death. I’m withering away and there’s nothing left of me.
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