I spoke a lot before you,
You weren’t my first words.
I wrote a lot before you,
You weren’t my first poems.
I read a lot before you,
You weren’t my first story.
I bled a lot before you,
You weren’t my first wound.
Many were interested before you,
You weren't the first in line.
The difference between you and those who came before you,
Is that I was their death,
And you were mine