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 The moons and the tides Strongly coincide, Pulling up and away, Tugging the sand from the bay. My mind is a lot like the sea in that way. It dips and it falls, It falters and it crawls, But then sometimes learns to just be. To exist in my mind is a paradox you see, An absurd conglomeration in actuality. The grace of the waves and the glow of the moon, Hold their cosmic connection betwixt their midsummer monsoon. I tell my tired thoughts that they exist as a metaphor, As a final weak attempt just to breathe. To find some purpose in these days is the truest tragedy, To wander this world without aim. Your words sweet like honey tell my mind not to worry, To find comfort in solidarity. They take place in my head, Turning from sound to shape, Spindling their fingers over my nerves as I shake. How I wish that I wasn’t born this way, But what could I quite possibly do? Every soul I’ve ever known has abandoned my side, Taking my absence in grace and in stride. I’m not a loss to them but they are to me, A piece of my wrist hosting a new seam. These are the days in which I wish not to breathe, To push my head underwater and let my tired lungs squeeze. I wish to struggle for air, My body not willing to let go, But to force myself to slip into the unknown. For my lips to turn blue and my blood to go cold, Would surely be better than the scornful gaze that you hold. It surely must be better than my sliced wrists bleeding, Dripping as I clench my white teeth, seething. O’er the rainbow is the place in which I’ll go, Even if the rainbow is black. For black is better than living with myself, And one day I’ll finally take the road less travelled and never turn back.
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