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Gulliver

Rating: 3.2

I'LL kick your walls to bits, I'll die scratching a tunnel,
If you'll give me a wall, if you'll give me a simple stone,
If you'll do me the honour of a dungeon—
Anything but this tyranny of sinews.
Lashed with a hundred ropes of nerve and bone
I lie, poor helpless Gulliver,
In a twopenny dock for the want of a penny,
Tied up with stuff too cheap, and strings too many.
One chain is usually sufficient for a cur.
Hair over hair, I pick my cables loose,

But still the ridiculous manacles confine me.
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
steve johnson 03 December 2020

I think this poem is in need of some code injection.

0 0 Reply
Marcus Wall 15 November 2020

Alysha Alysha Alysha Alysha Alysha

0 1 Reply
Matthew J Simpson 30 January 2019

This is so cool! I love thy poetry

2 4 Reply

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