Bouquet on his Grave
~TheRealityOfFantasy~
Bright. Cheery. A light in the dark. But never enough. Intended to be Stan's POV about Kyle, but you can make it about whoever you want. For Kenny/Butters shippers, it could fit for them too.
I am the small ray of sunshine that splits the dark skies, providing a source of serenity, but incapable of overcoming the raging storm.
I am the blanket covering a frightened child: a barrier, but not strong enough to ward off the devils and demons that live under the bed and in the closet.
He is the last kid picked in gym class: an innocent soul with a brain that burdens him with the labels of "nerd" and "outcast."
He is the runt of the litter: smaller, therefore lesser and weaker.
I am the pillow that catches his tears: able to take in the broken pieces, but unable to put them back together.
I am the bouquet on the grave that is his life: there to lighten the situation, but unable to make a significant difference. A mere bundle of lilies and roses cannot save a demolished soul.
