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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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Skinny girls go back to school Waiters wait in process lines Tears fall faster I want to start smoking It’s getting bad I will slice myself I will rip me apart And fall The bag I am holding is none Of your business. The bag I am holding Is empty; it’s full, you say; but Yes I say it is empty. Empty, and wet with tears I cried for the journey home for No journey is complete Without tears. Tears and coffee. I’ll invent tear-flavored-café— Only I will drink it, Alone, as usual. I want to cut off my fingers— One by one, on my left hand. Then I will take the knife and I will slice long lines of deep red Into the skin on my stomach. I am an ugly girl. Too fatt. I have things wrong with me— Psychological things. I want to Get raped and snort coke. I want to have sex and smoke A cigarette. I want to drink Beers and betray boys By kissing their friends Right in front of him When the sun rises on our hangover. Inhibitions—they mean nothing to me Anymore. Only death. Kiss my ass. I hide it too much. I never explain to people how I Feel—my bipolar self—so I drive me insane by Trapping emotions in a cage When what they need is to be unleashed. Poems do not exist here, I can’t see why you’d want to live here. The sky is never night here, We need to see more stars here. I don’t want to die here, It is worse than hell here. If hell is Tolstoy’s left toes— Useless and worthless in their Stench—I don’t want to Smell them. I feel Bad for navy seals sometimes. i know what I do is meaningless; at least I like doin it. This is where the headache Dwells—between the sheets Open and shut of Night and day. This is where pain is made In the mush of reality where The people live. Every person I encounter Works at the headache machine. I don’t want to see it. I want to hide in a cavern Actually I want to die.
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