A soldier's skin...
You silenced your doubts. You committed. You studied. You readied.
You allowed for only the best.
Weren't you fighting for something? What was that belief? Who are these people?
What is this taste in my mouth?
All of these skills and scars seem like someone else's.
Only soft flashes of faces and voices fill your head.
Only certain people can see you now. You are no longer among the living.
Nor are you dead.
The prison of a physical skin that separates ghostly memories from a dreaming reality.
Generally old and away, you fight, or fade.