Psalms

¹ Listen and help, O God. I'm reduced to a whine And a whimper, obsessed with feelings of doomsday.

² the conspirators out to get me,

³ flinging poison words, poison-tipped arrow-words.

⁴ shoot without warning, not caring who they hit.

⁵ of evil purpose, They keep lists of the traps they've secretly set. They say to each other, "No one can catch us,

⁶ The Detective detects the mystery in the dark of the cellar heart.

⁷ They double up in pain,

⁸ in full view of the grinning crowd.

⁹ work is the talk of the town.

¹⁰ Good-hearted people, make praise your habit.