You Have the Wrong Person

You brought me here under the false pretense
of finding the truth,
because somehow, you're convinced I know it.
But you have the wrong person.

I cannot tell you why the moon is crimson now
or why dark tendrils writhe beneath our skin.
Nor can I explain the shrieks
that echo outside your windows at night.

Sometime between the yesteryears and this moment
our world became a nightmare.
I am just as perplexed as you
about its cause.

It isn't a fault
that I have simply adapted to it better.
That my steps aren't as halting and fearful as yours.
That I have made friends with the now deeper shadows.
That my terror still lies with the possibilities of fearful humans,
and not with the monsters we now walk beside.

I'm sorry that I have no answers for you.
That I am not the cause of this transformation.
That I cannot soothe your fear.

Peace is a haven you must search for alone.
Maybe it's in those patches of light you people cling so desperately to.
If it is, I hope you find it.
Because I have a feeling
that your haven and mine
are two very different places.

​Good day, sir.