To Pluck: The Psalms in other Words.

O Lord, refrain from damaging me with your fury, or disciplining me.
Be kind to me, please hear my plea for parole-not the punishment possible.
Hold me God, I have shaken enough-actually, God I wish I could shake a lot more. I don’t really fear your fury, as I in my mind have housebroken you. Your hatred of sin isn’t something that I have grasped yet. Please open my eyes to your righteousness, give me a vision of your fury, that brings strong men to their knees, fill me with fear so your love means more, and then the rest of this psalm will be mine.

What pain can you rain on my head, I’ve really had more than I can bear? Return to me my God, and retrieve me from the pawnbrokers of life. Buy me out of enslavement and my place on display in the window.
Rescue me to make an object of me, and bring glory to you. (Please.)

I can not worship you from 6 feet down, so can I stay alive. Dead people do not remember you, so I can bring more glory to you alive. I can not preach in hell, it’s too late.

I have reached the tired stage because of my crying, my bed is almost floating away I have cried so much around it, and so is my couch.
The tears are dissolving my eye sockets, as the grand-canyon was shaped by rivers. I grow weak because of the lines of people, the wave upon wave of people who are out to get me.

Get out of here, you vultures and leaches on life, God has heard my request, he’s heard the sound of my weeping and has jumped out of his seat.

God accepts me, and has heard my plea.
All my enemies are going down, they will crap themselves and run, but will trip and fall, and all the people around them will point and laugh forever.

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