1-2. Take a deep breath, God; calm down—don’t be so hasty with your punishing rod.Your sharp-pointed arrows of rebuke draw blood;my backside smarts from your caning.
3-4. I’ve lost twenty pounds in two monthsbecause of your accusation.My bones are brittle as dry sticksbecause of my sin.I’m swamped by my bad behavior,collapsed under gunnysacks of guilt.
5-8. The cuts in my flesh stink and grow maggotsbecause I’ve lived so badly.And now I’m flat on my facefeeling sorry for myself morning to night.All my insides are on fire,my body is a wreck.I’m on my last legs; I’ve had it—my life is a vomit of groans.