Exhausted hands, in sand I toil,
No relics found, just endless soil.
A relic hunter’s silent dread.
Two hours beneath the desert’s glare,
My heart weighed down, my soul laid bare.
I feel like Franklin Finbar from Jumanji 2.

This task of mine, weighs me down,
A paycheck’s all that keeps me bound.
My boss, lazy and full of greed,
Sits, chewing sweets while I bleed.

The sun, relentless, burns my skin,
My breath is shallow, hope wears thin.
The sweat, it falls in rapid streams,
The heat devours all my dreams.

My body aches, each muscle sore,
I fumble through my pack once more,
For water, just a sip or two,
But my boss drank it—through and through.

“Damn it!” I curse...