Bubbles bobbing, balancing beneath solid, slick surfaces;
bewildered as to if they're to fall up or down.
"Up" makes the most sense one says to the other, do we not float?
"True", the other says, "we rush like white water twards the light."
"Our last glimpse of hope and freedom frozen before our eyes."
Spheres of air pearched precariously between two worlds.
Bubbles bobbing, balancing beneath solid, slick surfaces.