When I was 19,
I sat to take a thorn out of my hand.
Blood bled from the wound and I wondered if it would heal?
It did, but left a scare.
I faced a woman, I once loved
and she slapped my face,
But it was her tears that fall from my eyes,
And I turned before they fell
When I was alone,
I was 19,
And the woman remains my thorn.