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.