It doesn't have to rhyme!

Her arm against the chainsaw

A monstrous mechanical maw

The pain continues to persist

Therefore she refuses to resist

And thus the saw is turned on

An instant later the arm is gone

Seeing her arm at her side

The pain in her head subsides

Unsure of what to do next

Her phone blinks from a text

Who could be texting her, now

And not thinking this through, ow

As the shock begins to wear off

She suppresses regrets with a scoff

She’s feeling dizzy, sleepy and hurt

She dreams of her nomadic life, in a yurt

And one last thought for her friends

To the lot of whom she frequently lends

Her countless books in mint condition

Only to get them back through extradition

Of the books of hers they’d keep

And not one for one final, deep sleep
She vehemently refuses to die

Her phone she spots with her eye

She dials using her good arm

To lure paramedics with her charm

Even though that’s not necessary

Later she finds out one’s named Larry

He asks her all sorts of questions

Trying to protect her from infections

He quickly dresses her wound

But he fears that she is doomed

He finally asks what did this to her

The ambulance now going much faster

Never too fond of perjury

She says “self inflicted injury”