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I am sinking deep in the mud,
    and my feet are slipping.
I am about to be swept under
    by a mighty flood.
I am worn out from crying,
    and my throat is dry.
I have waited for you
    till my eyes are blurred.

(A) There are more people
    who hate me for no reason
than there are hairs
    on my head.
Many terrible enemies
    want to destroy me, God.
Am I supposed to give back
    something I didn't steal?

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