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.