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I live in a world of opportunities

but that is the cruelest fate I've ever seen

I lack the skills and the drive

to make my dreams come alive

imagine this, a world where everyone around you

make there dreams come true and expect you to do it too

But no matter how hard you try,
all you can do is cry
as they climb higher
and you sink lower

for almost a decade I've put up a facade
acting like my problems are my own choice, because I was too afraid to use my own damn voice.

I smile and wave, all to draw away from the problems inside my head, but if I keep it up I'll end up dead.

So here it is, my malignant brain on display, take a look inside and try to fathom my pain.

No matter how hard I try,
all I can do is cry,
as others climb higher,
and I sink lower.

Don't offer advice, don't try to sympathize with my plight,
you can't help me find a way to be all right,

I am the only inmate in this prison called my mind, I've looked around and I can't find anyone that is quite like me, even with the same disease nobody I've met shares this cell,
it makes me so angry I wanna stand up and yell.

HEY WORLD! I AM ME, SO WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT?
JUST LET ME LIVE!
STOP TELLING ME TO BE NORMAL!
THERE IS NO SUCH THING!
WE ARE ALL OUR OWN FLAVOR OF SCREWED UP!
SO WHY DO YOU GET TO BE RIGHT?
TO ME, YOU ARE CRAZY, AND I'M JUST FINE!

all I can do is cry,
as this damn world won't let me try,
as others climb higher,
I'm pushed lower.
Venting
This was mentioned to be a poem, but it kinda just turned into me yelling through text. But, at least they are the words I wanted to say.
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Pain, that is the one constant in my life.
joy, sadness, love, hate, they are sporadic and short lived.
when you get right down to it, pain is all i have.

my earliest memory is pain, a hand holding mine, too tight, it hurts.
then, a loud noise, the hand goes away. i'm alone, my hand still hurts, and it won't work right. my fingers are not supposed to bend that way, and neither is my leg.
the ringing wont go away, it keeps me from hearing what the man says. he looks worried.

i wake up in a bed, a white room, a strong smell stinging my nose. they call it some big word, anniesempic or something. the smell hurts, but not as bad as my leg, or my hand, or my head. the ringing is still there, but i can hear the man now. he is too loud, his voice hurts my ears.

then, i remember standing in the cold, the suit itches, the seams hurt when i move, and my face stings from the cold.
they lower a box into the ground. they say my mother is in the box, i don't remember having a mother.
i just remember my hand hurting.
the people around me mutter, talking about someone named Richard. asking how he could do that to his son and wife.

i don't see Richard, or his wife and son. i don't know why they are talking about him, and why they keep looking at me. the man asks if i'm alright, i tell him i'm cold, and the suit hurts.

the man takes me to a big house, there are other kids there, i don't like them.
when the man leaves, they hurt me, they punch and kick, one pulls my hair, another bites me.
they stop when they hear footsteps. an old woman comes in. she yells at me and slaps me. i don't like her.

a man comes and talks to the mean lady, he writes on something and hands her some green paper. then he takes me with him.
i don't like him, i can't remember why.
it had something to do with the kool aid he would give me, it tasted weird, and made me sleepy.
i would wake up later, it hurt in weird places.

one time, i woke up in a different place. the man who took me was being yelled at by people dressed in blue outfits. they gave him some shiny bracelets and took him away.

i went back to the mean old lady.

the next memory i have is the other boys hurting me again. i wanted them to stop, so i hurt them.
they stopped hurting me. but the old lady didn't.

another man came to take me, but this one was nice. he and his wife never hit me. and when i would flinch because i thought they were going to hit me, they felt bad and hugged me.
i liked them.

years later, i was still living with them, their names were David and Sara. they treated me like their son, so i treated them like my parents.
the ringing came back, so i told them. they were worried and took me to a doctor.

the doctor said something was wrong with my head, he used a really big word. skitsofrinio or something. he asked if i heard voices in my head sometimes. i told him i did, i always did. i thought it was normal.

they gave me weird tasting things called pills. they tasted kinda like the kool aid the mean man gave me. people get upset when i talk about that, so i didn't tell David or Sara.

much later, when i went to middle school, the pain started again. people found out about my schizophrenia, and they made fun of me for it. it didn't matter to them how i felt, they just kept pushing me around. the voices told me to push back, so i did. but, i got in trouble. people were yelling at me, and David and Sara cried. so i didn't push back again.

in eighth grade, bad people hurt me and Sara while David was away. they pulled out a piece of metal and cut me with it. the pain was so bad i fainted. when i woke up, the men were on the floor, and the piece of metal was in my hand. i was covered in blood, and Sara was screaming.

men in blue clothes took me from David and Sara. they asked questions and ran tests. but they didn't find what they wanted. so they gave me back.

later on. in high school. people didn't bother me as much, they were scared of me. but there was still pain. some people wanted to hurt me. and i let them. i didn't want to make anybody mad. but then i would black out and people got mad anyway. according to them, when i black out i hurt people. i become someone else. i don't believe them, the bullys just made stuff up to cover their assess.

when i was a sophomore. more people came into my house. when i got home from school, David and Sara were on the ground, dead. and some men with guns were taking things from my house. i screamed, and so did the voices, they were so loud it hurt and i... i killed them all.


i smirked a bit at the expression on the mans face
"and so, that's why i'm in here. i killed 13 men."
i cleared my throat
"so, do you still want to make that deal with me? to be what, a merc?"

the man smiled
"yes, yes i do."
"well, okay then."

the man stood up and shook my hand.
"welcome to project G.E.A.R., i expect great things from you Mitchell."

"huh, thats a first."
G.E.A.R.
FINALLY!
TAKE THAT WRITERS BLOCK!

this is just something i managed to churn out from the depths of the hell which is writers block. the bulk of the story is written to resemble the way someone would tell another person their memories, they arent always clear or detailed, and you often don't remember the whole story.
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I am in a bit of a slump right now, so if anyone sees this that is looking for a writer for any reason please message me.
A gift for the one i love

i am writing this as a token of appreciation for the woman who saved me from the dark pit of depression.

she asks if she is my princess, i tell her no no
she asks if she is worth her weight in gold, i say it is not so,
you
are
more
no princess fair,
no jewelry bright,
compares to how you look tonight,
you are my light, in a world of shadows,
you are my hope, in the depths of sorrow,
without you, i'd be nothing at all
without your love, i'd have no reason to hold on

your're not as radiant as an angel,
you're not as beautiful as a goddess,
they're nothing compared to you!

no angel in the sky,
no goddess in the stars,
is as breathtaking as you are!
nothing on this earth, comes close to you by far,
and i would trade it all, just to be with you!
i swear to you my words are true
I
Love
You
the memory of you, keeps me going on
and knowing you love me, lets me stand up tall
without you, id sink into the dark
without you id never have made it this far!

you're not my princess,
you're not my angel,
your not my goddess,


you're far too precious for words!
you are more
i hope you liked this poem. it is the first time in a while that i have been able to just let my emotions flow like this.
and if you are a girl (or guy, i don't judge) who feels like there are no decent men left in the world, treat this as evidence that, while we may be a dying breed, we are not all gone just yet.
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ballad of the damned
origin

long ago, the world was inhabited by wild beasts and savage races, all too busy fighting for dominance to rise from their primitive state.
then, one race finally broke free from the shackles of ignorance, they were known as the gogril, or in our tongue, goblins.
they were brilliant and peaceful, they built grand cities and wondrous machines, but they never forgot the horrible fate they escaped, and so they branded violence as their greatest sin.
they lived far apart from the world they left, high atop mountain peaks, deep in canyons, and even under the oceans. but this kept them blind to a grave threat, a tribe of primates had discovered the wonder of fire, and instead of using it to light their caves or warm their bodies, they wielded fire as a weapon, conquering all other beasts in the world. the age of humankind had begun.

due to their violent ascent to sentience, the humans had never abandoned the concept of war, and when they discovered that the goblins remained outside their control, they reminded the peaceful people of the kind of hell only sentience can bring.
they raided countless cities, capturing goblin building and inventions and twisting them for use in their conquest.

panicked and desperate, the goblins decided that, instead of fighting the humans themselves, thus breaking their most sacred law, they would create beings to fight for them, thus the parasites were born, living weapons designed specifically to kill humans. from their birthing forges came the vampires and werewolves, the wendigos and zombies, countless horrors more savage than anything the world had seen. yet the humans adapted, as they always did, and fought off these beasts.

desperate once again, the goblins had another idea, if the humans were so powerful, why not use them as weapons against themselves? thus came the wraiths, twisted mutations of humans, they embodied the worst that mankind had to offer, sprites would fly above human settlements, spreading the curse that birthed Banshees and Onis, Reapers and Geists. the humans took enormous casualties, yet still did not fall.

out of options, the goblins broke their commandment, using what they had learned from the parasites and wraiths they modified themselves, creating orcs, trolls, ogres and boggarts. they even gave themselves the ability to absorb human souls for power, yet they were inexperienced, and quickly started dying out. in a final move of desperation they started capturing humans and using them to create more troops. it was then that they discovered the thing that would turn the tide of the battle, a single human soul had refused to be dominated by its new master, and instead took control of the goblin, mutating it into something in between. with the intellect of a goblin and the savagery of a human, the first hobgoblin was born. he dubbed himself the beastmaster and enslaved the goblins with his new found powers. he created horrible creatures collectively referred to as beasts.

he loosed these beasts upon the humans, and began to obliterate them. in retaliation, the humans began weaponizing more and more goblin technology, eventually discovering the process of manifesting ones spirit as a weapon, a theoretical procedure created by goblin scholars ages ago. with these spirit weapons the humans drove back the beasts and banished them to the far wastes.

there, in the far wastes, more and more beastmasters were created, and their forces grew in strength. now they march on us again, and the war is rekindled.
ballad of the damned origins (rough draft)
the first draft of the origin story of a comic i am trying to make. 
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I am in a bit of a slump right now, so if anyone sees this that is looking for a writer for any reason please message me.

deviantID

kaimera100
kai draco
United States
i am a writer, a gamer, and an anime lover.

If there are any aspiring writers out there who would like some help with their work I would be more than happy to help.

If you want to use my work you are more than welcome to post it wherever you want, I only ask you to tell me where you put it via note.

DA little sister: :iconxxgrayxxbearxx:

Current Residence: New mombosa.
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MP3 player of choice: ummm. ipod?
Shell of choice: WTF does this mean?!?
Skin of choice: what kinda racist question is this?!?
Favourite cartoon character: Luffy!
Personal Quote: every day is the end of the world as we know it because we never know whats going to happen tomorrow
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:iconeriin84:
Eriin84 Featured By Owner Feb 11, 2015  Hobbyist Digital Artist
thanks for the watch!!
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gingerdove Featured By Owner Dec 2, 2014
Thanks for the watch >U<
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LilSisSyd Featured By Owner Nov 25, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
YAY! NEW WATCHER!! THANK YOUS!!! :iconoldschoolownedplz:
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zxrr Featured By Owner Nov 23, 2014  Student Filmographer
Thank you! <3
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Luney-Lunic Featured By Owner Sep 11, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thank you for the watch my friend! ^^
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Azadeth Featured By Owner May 25, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks for Watching.
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LightHether Featured By Owner Jan 1, 2014
Happy New Year.
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LightHether Featured By Owner Dec 25, 2013
Merry Christmas.
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MarcusSmiter Featured By Owner Nov 26, 2013  Student Digital Artist
Thanks for the watch, have a llama :)
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BardicKitty Featured By Owner Oct 7, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you for the favorite. ^_^
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