So am I made to possess months of vanity, and wearisome nights are appointed to me.

When I lie down, I say, When shall I arise, and the night be gone? and I am full of tossings to and fro unto the dawning of the day.

If I say, I will forget my complaint, I will leave off my heaviness, and comfort myself:

I am afraid of all my sorrows, I know that you will not hold me innocent.

I am weary with my groaning; all the night make I my bed wet with tears; I water my couch with my tears.

You hold my eyes from closing: I am so troubled that I cannot speak.