Biography of Oustine Hao
Welcome, I'm Oustine Hao, age 14, in eight grade, and beginner at poetry. My poems lay under the category of emo-ansted, or just stuff that comes from my heart. Don't expect fluffy poetry from me, unless I somehow feel like writing some. Chances of that are pretty, extremely low.
My inspirations comes from practically anything. No way I can scale my options down.
Music I listen to while brainstorming ideas (in alphabetical order) :
E-Type, Evanescence, Linkin Park, Nightwish, Tokio Hotel.
I have trouble crying so I burn candles instead.
Oh, and, I'm obssessed with otters.
And I love you Aplier Hao!
And whoever you are, feel free to talk to me and maybe tell me what my poetry lacks, (critisize me people, harshly or not) . I'm interested in whatever you got to say.
Oustine Hao Poems
The Three Headed Okapi
A three headed okapi was sad. The three heads were each, oh so mad. Each head wanted a different way. This would not be a very good day.
Some think of the glass half-full Some think of it half-empty I think it differently It's when the glass overflows
I am Hurt Hurt inside Just because
On the day we meet I have loved you This I would regret Soon I relized
Siren So Loud
This siren so loud Goes off in my head It's telling me that I should have been dead
I am the scapegoat From a petting zoo Would run in front if They were to hurt you
Spring Equals My Death
Spring equals my death I fear it's presence day I lose my breath its omnipresence
Most my feelings lead up to this one style That is read out loud It might take a while
You just Wait Wait and see That there is
Oh Nina I do For the love you give thank you very much You help me forgive
I'm biting back my fury But I'm writing down my rage I'm printing this on paper Later tear apart this page
Someone tell me why People of my past Hurt me so I'd cry Really want to know
The Start The End
It's the start of my poem But I'm not going to cry It is making me mad too And soon I will tell you why
I've been hurt again But never like this before It is building up
The Start The End
It's the start of my poem
But I'm not going to cry
It is making me mad too
And soon I will tell you why
How dare you to get near me
After I simply said no
It is not like I hate you
I just wanted you to know