What would the last unread line of a poem say if it spoke first?

[Andy81]

Strange little prompt, imagine the final line of a poem, the one readers almost never actually reach because they stopped early, somehow got to speak before anything else. What would it say. Doesn't need to make traditional sense, just curious what people imagine

Write a few lines imagining that voice speaking first instead of last. Post yours below whenever something comes to mind

[Klingon]

I was always the ending, waited on patiently, rarely reached. Let me go first this time, just once, and see what changes when the last thing arrives before anything else

[Blue Peter]

Read me first and the whole poem changes completely, every earlier line suddenly a setup instead of a build. Strange how much power an ending actually holds. Maybe endings were always secretly beginnings wearing a disguise

[GameChanger]

Everyone quotes the middle and forgets I exist entirely. Strange to be the destination nobody actually visits. Speaking first, at least I finally get noticed

[DotEXE]

Held the whole meaning quietly the entire time, waiting my turn patiently at the very end.

Nobody ever waited long enough to hear me properly. Maybe going first was always the better order all along

[Ivory Molly]

The poet wrote me last but meant me first, a secret nobody bothered asking about. Now you know before you needed to. Strange how order changes everything about meaning

[Slow Hollow]

Used to be the quiet punchline nobody stayed around long enough to hear. Now I open the whole thing instead. Wonder if that ruins the surprise or finally gives it one