Job 30:1-31

“But now those who are younger than I make fun of me. I would not have even let their fathers sit with my sheep dogs. What use did I have for their strength since they had lost their strength to work? They were thin from hunger and wandered the dry and ruined land at night. They gathered desert plants among the brush and ate the root of the broom tree. They were forced to live away from people; people shouted at them as if they were thieves. They lived in dried up streambeds, in caves, and among the rocks. They howled like animals among the bushes and huddled together in the brush. They are worthless people without names and were forced to leave the land. “Now they make fun of me with songs; my name is a joke among them. They hate me and stay far away from me, but they do not mind spitting in my face. God has taken away my strength and made me suffer, so they attack me with all their anger. On my right side they rise up like a mob. They lay traps for my feet and prepare to attack me. They break up my road and work to destroy me, and no one helps me. They come at me as if through a hole in the wall, and they roll in among the ruins. Great fears overwhelm me. They blow my honor away as if by a great wind, and my safety disappears like a cloud. “Now my life is almost over; my days are full of suffering. At night my bones ache; gnawing pains never stop. In his great power God grabs hold of my clothing and chokes me with the collar of my coat. He throws me into the mud, and I become like dirt and ashes. “I cry out to you, God, but you do not answer; I stand up, but you just look at me. You have turned on me without mercy; with your powerful hand you attacked me. You snatched me up and threw me into the wind and tossed me about in the storm. I know you will bring me down to death, to the place where all living people must go. “Surely no one would hurt those who are ruined when they cry for help in their time of trouble. I cried for those who were in trouble; I have been very sad for poor people. But when I hoped for good, only evil came to me; when I looked for light, darkness came. I never stop being upset; days of suffering are ahead of me. I have turned black, but not by the sun. I stand up in public and cry for help. I have become a brother to wild dogs and a friend to ostriches. My skin has become black and peels off, as my body burns with fever. My harp is tuned to sing a sad song, and my flute is tuned to moaning.