Fortnight

FORTNITE
Another wet morn
Both with a silver blemish on our bodies
It happened again
To add yet another day of being bare beneath the same cloak
But this glee ends as the first era of the week of drudgery had returned.
why?

Another eminent dusk of homecoming
With streams of inferno strains  steaming from our physique
Portraying its imperious shades of adversity
Resulting in derogatory greetings
Nd even after replenishment of our bodies not long after we were assailed by sleep
Over to the new day

Now a king is born
Roused by the horn of an automated timepiece
Awoken and bestowed with bygone knowledge
Which he shall endow services to some untutored fellows
Making him superior and designated with the artistry
Via make or unmake your day

It's Ill luck that through this week
Each hour of our epochs a king dies
To lay beside the other mortals before him
At least to claim his share of. 6 feet of the earth

Plaintive? yes! every week
One more star comes
With lustrous light to radiate a part of this void
Never less another star also has gone into the leeway

Same a heart is filled with ardent gaiety
Whilst one has sunk without aspiration
Left with confusion and queries bout everything and nothing

Then is saved by the fact that it's noon on the last day of the Fortnite
Leaving him to escape into the leeway
Knowing Sabbatum was here
To soothe the entanglement around their life by any means of rapture
Before the Fortnite strides back
We shall relish the best 45 hours of our lives