I wish I was Dead

My endurance has perished, and so has my hope in God.

God why do you keep me alive? So that I bear more and more affliction. Why do you let me live? So that I endure so much of your wrath. I wish I died in my mother's womb. I should have been carried straight to the grave on the day when I was born. Would that I never saw the light, for of what use is my life? You have withheld your compassions. Your consolations have ceased, you have forsaken me, made me stumble, and afterwards you have judged me.

dark and lost

I have forgotten what happiness is, and my eyes are weary from crying. Every night I cry myself to sleep, pleading that I would die in it. My weeping endures through the night, sorrow rouses me in the morning. Why have you appointed such dreariness to accost me? How long until the day you crush me completely? Every phone call is bad news, and now my health fails me. Why did you give me joy, to snatch it again so quickly? Why did you show me paradise, when you meant I should never enter? You have taken everything, are you not satisfied? Is it not enough already? Okay, take my life as well— or please leave me alone, so that I at least spend my few remaining days in peace, before I go to that deep and dark place from whence I shall not return. There the weary are at rest, there the prisoners are at ease together.

You yourself made me. You fashioned every part. Knit me together in my mother's womb. You knew me, before any part of me was in existence. Yet now you have determined to crush me. You pursue me to destroy me, even though I could never defend myself. Even if I was innocent, and I raised my voice to speak, would not my words and my lifted head condemn me? What shall I do if you appeared, except tremble and freeze? Why do you judge me so severely when there's no one to appeal to? This I know is my end, for who else will I turn to? If you God have hated me, who will love me? If you have cast me off, who will take me up?

Please take these frightful comforters away from me. I have no use of them. They add to my pain, and multiply my sorrows without number. My brokenness reminds them of theirs. They cast their eyes on me and think only of their own suffering. They tell how their lives are worse, and their eyes say I am only exaggerating. You have denied me justice, and now you add me their taunting. “God will help you. Surely he will. He cannot forsake his servant,” those that claim to be Christians say to me. Why have they determined to lie to my face? They see you have forsaken me, and they claim otherwise. They are not sure if you will help me, but they flaunt the promise carelessly. You can help me. You could, I am certain. But will you? That who can tell?

My hope is torn from me. My God has made me garbage and scam. I long for death, I dig for it more than hidden treasures, but it comes not. Why is light given to one who is in such misery? Life to one with a bitter soul? Lord, why are you doing this? You know I cannot face you. I a mere man, how am I to wrestle with you? Why do you insist to face me? You know I am not guilty, and if I have sinned, woe is me, for you have not pardoned, and none is it that can save me from your hand. Your crown has fallen from my head. You have filled me with bitterness and sated me with wormwood. My soul is bereft of peace. I have forgotten what happiness is. My endurance has perished, and so has my hope in God.

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I am weary with my moaning, 
every night I flood my bed with tears; 
I drench my couch with weeping. 
My eyes waste away because of grief 
It grows weak because of all my foes 
Psalms 6:6-7