I had choice to make

My laptop sat open with 

A blank document glaring at me,

While a blade sat rested in my 

Favorite copy of Jane Eyre on my shelf. 

My head did the thing where 

It peddles my thoughts until 

It comes to the finish line.

I grabbed my laptop and 

The words formed in stanzas.

Three lines at time. 

I found ease in words,

Instead of the pinch of a blade.

Hundreds of documents rest in a folder called poetry,

and the scars on my wrist have become scarce.