Ostime, the So-Called Justice Bringer

The killer, the executioner, the hunter, the slayer

Ostime, the one who was kicked around by many

For no reason that the child could comprehend

Ostime, the one who tried to be kind to everyone

Even if that person pushed her in front of someone using a swingset

Ostime, the one who wanted to be patient with everyone

Even for those who taunt her over the most insignificant things

Ostime, the one who told the adults like she was taught to do

Even if they made no effort to solve any of the problems

Ostime, the one who broke

No one else cared, no one else tried, no one else was going to do anything about it

So she was the one who had do something, anything

Years later, the whole town came to fear her

Ostime, the So-Called Justice Bringer

Who would slay anyone who did anything remotely wrong

Ostime, who haunted the streets with her bottled up rage

Unleashed at the playground bullies and the careless bystanters

Ostime, who evaded those who wanted to stop her

While the intently malicious and the innocently insensitive fell

Ostime, who people begged for their lives to

Just because they gave the customers the incorrect change

Ostime, who was filled with loneliness and regret

Because the town was now empty

This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741