Something inside of me is watching me and waiting 

And the thing which scares me the most is when I cannot fight anymore

I'm hearing speaking the voice of my father, disturbed by fits of abstraction,

Silences of mind.

I always do what voices in my head tell me to do

"You are no one, a child of naught, you'll burn in fire. You have to hide,

Shame of life, mistake of nature, swathe your face, your monstrous features,

You are condemned !"

I always do what voices in my head tell me to do

Atered and disfigured, dysmorphophobia.

The eye fixed, a razor in the hand, determined to comit the worst,

The cost of the loss, a psychic rebirth,

Through this path enslaved to my own delirium, delivered by auto-mutilation.

In front of my reflection so detestable, I tear pieces of my face,

Again until I will be unrecognizable.

My acts relieve my mind, I forgivemyself his absence,

But the voices still present, speaking to me.