Shelvid to me is like. There's a version of you that only exists in my head. I wanted to protect you and I'm so sorry I failed I failed I failed. I say I care about you but I keep driving you away. I do what you ask me to do to you and I regret it. There's something wrong with you and it's my fault. You came back wrong, but let's be honest, you were always this way. I killed to avenge you but if your murderers had asked me first I don't know that I wouldn't have agreed with them. People think we're both crazy, so why do they like you and not me? The version of you that lives in my head has all the harsh edges sanded down, and it might be all that's left of you now.














