11 Violent witnesses rise up. They question me about things I know nothing about.
12 They repay me evil for good— my soul is forlorn.
13 But as for me, when they were sick, my clothing was sackcloth. I afflicted my soul with fasting, my prayer kept returning to my heart.
14 I went about mourning as though for my own friend or brother. I bowed down dressed in black as though for my own mother.
15 But at my stumbling they gathered in glee. Wretches gathered against me whom I did not know, tearing at me without ceasing.
16 They mocked profanely, as if at a feast, they gnashed at me with their teeth.
17 My Lord, how long will You look on? Rescue my soul from their ravages— my solitary existence from the lions.