The church bell rang, and into the chapel strolled a hundreds whelming in faith,

A mystery in an auspicious aroma told me its time to unfold my eyes and find the flaw,

Invoice don’t make gaffes, neither do my instincts, they are tailored to the very last thread,

Senses began scrutinizing the scenes, and guess what showed up in my radar.

Dictators and comedians lined the walls on the front, reading between the lines.

Buttoned until the neck, stagnant, but peeking around thru the edges of their eyes.

Followed by the queens of gossips, smearing a ten-mile radius in replicated pride

Weighed down and burdened by the debt-inviting affluence drowning their necks.

Behind, teenaged girls with fragranced hairs, flaunted tales of their wider-wardrobe,

Stitching a battle, counting the ones they had stabbed in the heart, over colored-nails.

Overlooked, were the rusted machines, right behind, the old-aged masters in pretending,

Ingenious with time, their voice of experience echoed thru the corridors like angry flies.

At the rear, stood timid less chaps, disapproving the ceremony for slaying their time,

Some trying hard to find an earn, some, to keep their earn, in the midst, faith departed.

Complete strangers tried to impress their way around, shaking hands, giving talks,

innovating ideas, throwing their ends to the theories, having a couple of heads bend over.

Married ladies envied their rivals for their better half’s, kicking the ones they had tied knot to.

cursing the nuptial sites for hiding the best for those who had a colossal figure to bestow.

Kids, running around in their wildest of joys, bearing in mind their guardian’s inability to scowl.

Those who ran behind, broke their soles and had to make that long way home, humiliated.

Onlookers crept in claiming their sides, the bride’s? or the groom’s? came an answer, so doubting

Gaping each other, made a gesture and yelled, Br-ooms! and fled the scene, gasping for breathe.

The clock finally stabbed the hour, after a long and hectic preach about the other side of this bridge,

the bridge of tying the knot on a bride, kissing her, saying, you are my slave, my burden for life!

At the end of the aisle stood a little boy witnessing this strange ritual where burdens were rested.

A smooth transaction of burden from shoulder to shoulder over ten silver pieces and a priest!