[October 4]: It Looks Like A Stepping Stone, But Doesn't Smell Like One

The early beginnings
When you are looking for stonesTo cross the swampYou were thrown in,Skipping the cracked ones, Stepping on the compact-looking bouldersMaking your way across the darkness-(Is that the will-o’-the-wisp you’re seeing?)At least these footholds are something concreteTo stand on
But, oh, careful; Be wary of those stonesBe wary of that awkward momentWhen your stepping stone is a trapdoor.
----The swamp

Your stepping stone is a trapdoorAnd the still, murky waters are the only floorGiven to you in the event you want toVoice your views

Your audience is too damn poor:Frogs and toads,Ornately clothed,All they own;A few accountsOf how they traveled from the marshesTo the dream wetlandsWith towering heights,And wallets full of cardsPacked with details of who they became,And nothing of what they are
Over there, those sleeping “logs”Will rise through the fog and rip you apart,Just waiting for you to takeThe first wrong step.
It is solely your fault for walking in here Carrying a conscience.
Here, there is no treatment availableFor the morally disabled.No, here, you are the minority.
In Bog City,You are the disabled one.
And you like toDo as you would want to be done by,Nevertheless, you will have to push yourself in for a position- Get to know a swamp dweller or twoHave them vouch for you, Push you through the crowd of other hopefulsTo get by,Otherwise,You are done for.
Deeply disgusted, Yet feeling hopeless,You know this is the only path open now- You might be rich, on principle,Yet your pockets and your stomach are punished for it
But, dear Lord, You never wanted to turn into a toad anyway.
So watch out for those stepping stonesFor they are trapdoors,Once you fall through,The only lamp that will save youIs the one you extinguishedWhen you decided to follow that will-o’-the-wispAnd to relight it meansGoing back to square oneOr sinking even lower.
----Solid groundYour feet are hardened, tired, And quite possibly soiled
You do a heart-checkTry to cleanse itSupplicate, pray,Lock away those mistakesIn the same box you had forgottenAll the good memories Of not having a single care In the world.------October Poetry: in the style of April Poetry (U.S. National Poetry Month),U.K's poetry month is October.Personal Mission: 31 days, 31 poems.Challenge Accepted.