My skin felt too tight again today as the gust of death and loneliness swept past me, almost as if escaping towards a place of solitude it deserves. Having been torn out my bed in the early hours of the morning, I decided to shower. The cold shower sent daggers through my spine. It was as if my body, limb by limb, was beginning to freeze. This is the reality of my life as a child soldier. They stole my mother and replaced her protection with a rifle. However, my greatest weapon is my hard, dry, black skin, which keeps all the guilt and sadness pent up inside without it I would die.

However, recently my skin has become tighter. I can feel the veins racing around my body, my small, fragile body. At the beginning it was loose, vulnerable, my pores were filled with emotion. I was bleeding with agony. But now, I make them bleed. It is because of them that I am motherless and a soldier. It is because of them that I have not eaten for three days. My tight skin is what provides a home to the demons trapped inside of me. My tight skin feels no remorse, sorrow or pain. It is strong like my character, like my rifle.

Our leader has the tightest of skins. Not only does he let in guilt, but he has no room for it. That is his true body armour. It is this leader that has emerged from the wastage of poverty to fight back against a sea of white faces. He has promised us everything. Soon I will be reunited with my calm, loving mother. “Soon”, he says…

Conditions in the desert are harsh. The stench of blood and gun powder engulfs every particle of air. The dust, soil and dirt are permanent elements of our habitat. Water is scarce. Food has become non-existent. Even my tough, tight skin cracks once in a while. Our leader has been gone for a while. There are talks of surrender ; however everyone has their mouth closed. I have noticed that there are some things my impenetrable skin can be penetrated by. Bullets are not one of those, for they merely make my skin tighter.

The desert is lonely. My friends have either been shot or died of starvation. The most important thing is that I am alive. That I am lucky enough to still enjoy life. However, my skin is sad. I have betrayed it. I am at my limit. They told me “After you kill one, you’ll never think about the second”, but that is not true. My heart bleeds for them, each and every innocent one. I would show I, but my skin is so tight it hurts to feel. What have I become?

I have been betrayed. My life has been stolen. I have decided to throw my skin away, We are two separate entities. I am once again vulnerable and exposed. My body cries with anguish. My skin will not be destroyed. It will claim the life of another child. It will hide in the undergrowth and pounce on any victim is desires. It will capture them like it captured me. If only I had loosened my skin, my hard, tough skin, I could have changed it to obey me. At least now my skin will feel tight on me again. I will not allow that chance. At least now I am free to create a new one.