13-18 I’m standing my ground, God, shouting for help,

at my prayers every morning, on my knees each daybreak.

Why, God, do you turn a deaf ear?

Why do you make yourself scarce?

For as long as I remember I’ve been hurting;

I’ve taken the worst you can hand out, and I’ve had it.

Your wildfire anger has blazed through my life;

I’m bleeding, black-and-blue.

You’ve attacked me fiercely from every side,

raining down blows till I’m nearly dead.

You made lover and neighbor alike dump me;

the only friend I have left is Darkness.