It won’t be the monsters you can see. It will be indiscernible, desiccating. So subtle, you notice too late; stuck in the pot that slowly boiled. With you too spent to escape.
It will be like you and me. Full of life and love and possibility. Full of promise and buried expectation. So much light, you’re certain nothing can be hidden, tucked away, shoved behind.
It won’t jump out or attack. It will slowly consume. You’ll look down and notice you’re gone.
Too quick to trust.
You never learn.