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Greeting Card Maker | Poem Art Generator

Free online greeting card maker or poetry art generator. Create free custom printable greeting cards or art from photos and text online. Use PoetrySoup's free online software to make greeting cards from poems, quotes, or your own words. Generate memes, cards, or poetry art for any occasion; weddings, anniversaries, holidays, etc (See examples here). Make a card to show your loved one how special they are to you. Once you make a card, you can email it, download it, or share it with others on your favorite social network site like Facebook. Also, you can create shareable and downloadable cards from poetry on PoetrySoup. Use our poetry search engine to find the perfect poem, and then click the camera icon to create the card or art.

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She’s the little girl with pigtails, who sits quietly at her desk. Whose eyes lift to meet no one, whose clothing is always a mess. He’s the little boy on the playground, whose strays alone without a friend. Whose countless cuts and bruises, are too deep for those to mend. She’s the little girl in the lunch line, who stares at classmates having fun. Her mouth never forms a smile, her long sleeves cover what’s been done. He’s the little boy, who lashes out in anger, as his classmates stop and stare, in wonder at the skeptical, of a little boy who seldom had a word to share. She’s the little girl who recites excuses, for every injury her tiny body may bear. A rehearsed story told so perfectly, no one notices the blankness within her stare. He’s the little boy who startles so easily, and jumps at the loudest sound. A little boy covered in shades of blue, inflicted by an abuser his fate is bound. She’s the little girl with pigtails, she sits alone, without a friend to tend, a black tinted heart of abusiveness, hidden injuries never to mend. They were the little boy and girl in the classroom, who sat quietly alone, concealing the crime, of living a life-time at the hands of an abuser, who raised their hands of abuse one last time.

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The Little Girl With Pigtails

She’s the little girl with pigtails, who sits quietly at her desk. Whose eyes lift to meet no one, whose clothing is always a mess. He’s the little boy on the playground, whose strays alone without a friend. Whose countless cuts and bruises, are too deep for those to mend. She’s the little girl in the lunch line, who stares at classmates having fun. Her mouth never forms a smile, her long sleeves cover what’s been done. He’s the little boy, who lashes out in anger, as his classmates stop and stare, in wonder at the skeptical, of a little boy who seldom had a word to share. She’s the little girl who recites excuses, for every injury her tiny body may bear. A rehearsed story told so perfectly, no one notices the blankness within her stare. He’s the little boy who startles so easily, and jumps at the loudest sound. A little boy covered in shades of blue, inflicted by an abuser his fate is bound. She’s the little girl with pigtails, she sits alone, without a friend to tend, a black tinted heart of abusiveness, hidden injuries never to mend. They were the little boy and girl in the classroom, who sat quietly alone, concealing the crime, of living a life-time at the hands of an abuser, who raised their hands of abuse one last time.

Book: Reflection on the Important Things