Job 30:20-31

I cry out to You for help, but You do not answer me; I stand up, and You turn Your attention against me. You have become cruel to me; With the might of Your hand You persecute me. You lift me up to the wind and cause me to ride; And You dissolve me in a storm. For I know that You will bring me to death And to the house of meeting for all living. “Yet does not one in a heap of ruins stretch out his hand, Or in his disaster therefore cry out for help? Have I not wept for the one whose life is hard? Was not my soul grieved for the needy? When I expected good, then evil came; When I waited for light, then darkness came. I am seething within and cannot relax; Days of affliction confront me. I go about mourning without comfort; I stand up in the assembly and cry out for help. I have become a brother to jackals And a companion of ostriches. My skin turns black on me, And my bones burn with fever. Therefore my harp is turned to mourning, And my flute to the sound of those who weep.