I wear two skins, both shy and loud. In the noise I settle down. Introvert, I always learn, epiphany on high alert. Alone, I find a clearer view, the quiet is my highest throne. One ignites, the other yearns. Extrovert, I have the nerve, should I feel it worth my time. Expend the energy as if it

Where words dance like the sweet morning, A space in the light for voices, old and new. Poems are shared and ideas set free, This is Honey Tongue's hive to be. From silver lines to golden dreams, Here, every voice in rhythm gleams. Together, we write, inspire, and grow— In this hive of art, let you

A poem begins with whispers, faint, Like shadows dancing without restraint .Words find rhythm, heart meets pen, A verse is born, then born again. With every stanza, thoughts take shape, An open door, an endless escape. To write a poem is to set it free, Ink in the air, a quiet decree.

In the silence of others, we search for our name, As whispers unspoken still fuel the flame. No voices to guide us, no words to define, We walk through the shadows, still chasing a sign. Their silence, a verdict we cannot comprehend, Like echoes of judgement that never quite end. The we