Although I Am Only a Native Here
A trumpet has two horses: 
I-can’t-go-on & I-must-go-on, 
Or I knew nothing 
About his pain and the pain it caused. 
Or I was weak, I was bold, 
I was born here but I went away 
Like a foreigner among intellectuals.
Or I was dead, 
But standing feet from the grave,
I felt sorry and happy.  
What’s inevitable and what we can still change.	
A whinny, a neigh. 
Or the heart’s dull thump 
Thumping on its way.   
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