Who Can Know What I Lack
by Hershele Danielovitch
Who can know what I lack
The heavy burdens on my back
What constantly torments me so
fills the depths of me with woe
Something strange is touching me
how it chills and freezes me
how I fever cold and hot
soaked in sweat, shut in and blocked
How my body to its core
is an open deep felt sore
and it flames and burns and festers
while I die with every step.