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.