Be merciful to me, LORD, for I am in distress; my eyes grow weak with sorrow, my soul and body with grief.
My life is consumed by anguish and my years by groaning; my strength fails because of my affliction,and my bones grow weak.
Because of all my enemies, I am the utter contempt of my neighbors and an object of dread to my closest friends— those who see me on the street flee from me.
I am forgotten as though I were dead; I have become like broken pottery.
For I hear many whispering, “Terror on every side!” They conspire against me and plot to take my life.