The sun beat down so hard it burnt his back,
His feet ate the dust as he ran the endless track,
The wind gave him wings and the miles flew by,
He was gunning for gold, for victory he’d die.
Critics had a field day when he entered the arena,
They could have knocked him down with a feather,
“Sideways you can’t see him through a 50-cent coin,
Bones on a cold carcass make up his manly loin.”
“His feet so long he will surely fall flat on his face,
Legs stretch down like two bamboo poles in place,
From the land of famine he gets not his daily bread,
If he wins, we’ll eat our hats,” in mockery they said.
As he touched the finish line, the crowd went wild,
Cheers heard across the land by every man and child,
His heartbeats so erratic they were beating out of time
If he could take a shot at his critics it’d be no crime
i need a few hyperbole's out of this story are these it
His feet ate the dust as he ran the endless track,
If he wins, we’ll eat our hats,
His heartbeats so erratic they were beating out of time
3 answers
They could have knocked him down with a feather,
“Sideways you can’t see him through a 50-cent coin,
Cheers heard across the land by every man and child,