But who is the monster?

I tried so long to draw a feeling from the empty eyes, and failed.
I suspect an act; an excuse; a justification; maybe just confusion and an unwillingness to change course.
I thought so long about declining like a gentleman, but I know you have no respect for self-sacrifice. You respect  conquerers and thieves.
And maybe I shouldn't have, for my own peace.
And maybe I shouldn't have for yours.
But if it was a mistake, it was the best mistake I ever made;
Any emptiness I may feel
(What else is new?)
Is worth it for the long moments of comfort and peace,
For the racing heart that has answered only hills for so long,
For the instant of forgetting like a white sleep,
For the hazy high that nothing else has given me or could.
So for all my doubts and internal arguments,
For all that I debated what qualifies for coercion
(And let's be honest, offering choice of clothing is hardly a sign of reluctance),
I am unable to generate regret.
Fortunately for me, I doubt it will be necessary.
You would probably consider it a weakness.