|
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. |
