Silver bubbles, such martyrs you are, making a point of showing your beauty only to cast yourselves above the water to your deaths.

He raised his muzzle, popping one before it had a chance to do anything of importance.

Look around, just look for a moment.

His eyes turned lazily, watching his fur flow as the water caressed it.

How long have you been down there?

He doesn't know, doesn't care, opens his mouth, watches his bubble rise, maybe it will reach the top.

A hoof raised as he popped it.

"I guess that's my problem" more bubbles with his words, chest heavy with water, and he raised to his hooves, kicking out to reach the surface, to breath.

"I keep myself down"

he's fully aware of his problems of course, this was no epiphany, just the same thing he had already known.

He weighs a lot, when wet.

But he trots off, finds a place where the sun can gaze upon just how pathetic he is.

Maybe he's the martyr.

---------

Martyr has a few definitions, the one I used here was;
Martyr - One who makes a great show of suffering in order to arouse sympathy.


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