Why are white men deemed "dangerous" by Muslims and Black communities? I keep asking myself that, and I don't see a realistic answer. It seem's like a racist comment by black supremacists too me.

Could you believe the sea's of dead carried me to and from the gates of Valhalla, where I took so many son's, and lost so many brothers. Would you believe that I don't like talking about myself or what I've had to do outside of these diaries written in fire and blood? I was your sword, your shield, your life and light, and in return for being yours I lost my own. A harsh trick that is played by the gods, to give you the ability to save others but not one's self. I can spark iron, and clash metal with bone, but I can't remember who I used to be. I can never be who I used to be. I have tried to bring back my smile and my wit but all i have now is my public silence and my quite gaze. A unknown sacrifice to do what I've done. A pact sealed with my dying breath, I should have listened to the river man. My deeds will forever be lost in the fog of war, I've conquered the men of the East, the South, the North, but I never found an adversary worthy of a honorable death. This is not just some soliloquy, this is my life story. If one looks closely they can see the truths behind Loki's encryption, any maybe...maybe they can help me find meaning again. Maybe they can help me stand on my own two feet again, and give me purpose. For as strong as I am forged, my body has gone cold, and now I lay as cold steel frosted at the hilt. I've come across many in my journey, the Huntress, the Trickster, the Beserker, the Lord himself, but the only order I was given was to await the storm, and then sail to glory. Although I am sure the Huntress will accompany myself, I am unclear on the rest. Give me orders my lord, I long to hunt once more.

I used to be important, I was a god of men, as that fine sand brushed along my face my life had meaning. I remember stretching my wings and gliding through the air, snatching evil men from their sleep at night. I was once serving a purpose, not what you see now. Not rusting away in a life that seems to have no place for me. I'm happy there is peace, but that and I are like water and fire. I do not want to eat, I want to hunt. I miss the sky's, and the green hue of the horizon beyond the mountain tops. The radio chatter while engaged in frenzy of fire with Valkyries screeching as they fly between us rafting their claws on the dirt and sand as they plucked our dead away. The feel alone of the very touch on my cheek as lady death elegantly walked past my soul, her smile as she hunted with ease those who gave their last breath. Watching her point them out and at her very command, Valkyries carry off her prey. The very baptism in fire and blood, the taste of warm iron, and salty swet. I used to be important..

I am looking for an artist to help me modify and put the final touch ups on my half sleeve tattoo i made while i was deployed. If anyone would be interested, please let me know, Im not great at drawing or design so its in need of a little love before i find someone to put it in my skin.