Souls from different abode,
hustling with standing code.
They are gathered like communal faithfuls
with parallel goals and reasons.
These are measuring tapes
scaling temporary scapes;
and lengthening meandering shapes,
they fell in line like stapes.
Then murmurings were bound to rise
and grumbling wasn’t a surprise.
Of heated patience
and altered silence;
these souls are boisterous.
In quarrelsome tide
all wishes went wide.
These souls basked in pride
until none wished a side.
They are found in the fuel station,
seen in the banking hall,
and in the bus station;
with noisy break and call.
And some will end with headache,
or with torturing backache.
And blaming it on an innocent day
yet routinely acting that way.
But the queer was meant for order
to bring balance among all others,
and they chose the self rule
while scampering like a loose mule.
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