Yellowish-brown murk is what I see down below,
A slimy feel to the touch of my testing fingertip.
Stuffy, dank air envelops my body and fills my lungs,
A dimly-lit space with green walls strains my eyes.
Why are they encouraging me to join them?
Seeking the changing room, I get lost in mazy halls.
I scramble into my suit now late to meet my partner.
Waiting for me, he’s in no rush to join the others.
An inkling of hope… more dubious than hopeful.
Are they really having that much fun?
Unsavory waters are in the headline news;
Sometimes we’ve no choice but to enter.
Unsavory truth is an emerging bruise;
We must listen to our inner mentor.
digital image, Photoshop
original: 1000 x 1000 px