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 "ONE “Hahahahahahahahaha!!!!” i tick the trickling time of your heart set in a fast paced, rat raced end of nought burying your precious life for my rise of worthless death in traitor riches of an annihilating amassment and you lose his gain for my vain forever lost in the hell of my heart in eyes rich reddest ripe trickling slowly fast the sweetest hate within seen. TWO the sweetness of terror in the deepness of horror shrinks my ink in fright of freeze behold callous craftiness in cunning cuff of call of tempting taste of a sense’s sensuous fall an invite of worms womb rich in pregnant rot of delicious decay blind in a mind’s fold of nought takes a guided, guarded watch of a self destruct onwards a chill of feet, six in plan of instruct oh! where is the angel of sorrow to bellow the looming loss of a tomorrow? life is in a serious cell of “OH NOO!!!” and heavens’ eyes rains a cat and dog of flow. THREE never scream your frightened prayers at me whose mouth made a dross toss of my heart and hands and killed my voice in horror of rich rot pleasures of pukes never seek for my unseen oblivion please for I have been buried in your long lust lost of the eyes, flesh and heart his eyes, flesh and heart the time ticks a harvest of gory and its sickle sicks a pleasure of dark story; never be high pitched at its deep simile throat seek and never rumble a resonating quake of its fear feast for the reward is black ripe of a red hot sorrowing and hades hungers hell fill in a piercing thrill kill so, let your begging prayers go let six feet of summon do as told let my drossed oblivion wave your bye of sorrow let hades have its meal of nasty shudders, cold. THE CROSS. MY DROSS. THE LOSS. MY TOSS."
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