They say
a poem on Overtime
should always possess
excessive words.
It should, simply, be overabundant.
The poem should overflow
It should overwhelm.
Overexert.
Overpopulate.
Overburden.
In other words,
it should unrestrainedly strive
to overthrow
the overarching meaning of the genre.
Or,
it should be content
to be sold cheap in a word factory;
on some picture perfect social networking site,
like any ordinary worker
drenching in sweat,
eating by the roadside and,
on phone, talking to his far-off family -
working on the construction of a mall
he would never dare to enter.
In the labour of breathing everyday,
Life's an overtime.
