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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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I cut. I cut into my flesh to see the blood pool into Droplets, to feel the sensation of being ALIVE, Instead of the incessant dream-like feeling I Always seem to possess throughout the Duration of my day-to-day. I cut. I wipe the blood around in circles with my Fingertips in order to prove to myself that I Am, in fact, REAL, present, mortal. I dig deep with a kitchen knife, I slice Haphazardly, unconsciously searching, Praying, even, for that feeling, that Knowledge that I am a being; a human Being, capable of dying, capable of emitting This red, sticky substance which oozes from My arms, my legs. I don’t care anymore if it’s seen, if it’s known That I need this confirmation. I cut. I breathe in fresh air every time I slice flesh And I feel, I feel, I feel. I live, I am a person, I am here on earth, On this corrupt planet of suffering; I am a body carrying a heart which will One day stop beating. And I don’t want it to stop, and yet… I do. So many times, I do. But the constant remains, let me live And suffer, and above all, LOVE. I can withstand the pain if such Pain is worth undergoing. Stop. I cut to bring myself back to reality, To remind myself to breathe. Oxygen fills my lungs when the blood Comes into view and then, right there, I know that I exist.

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I cut. I cut into my flesh to see the blood pool into Droplets, to feel the sensation of being ALIVE, Instead of the incessant dream-like feeling I Always seem to possess throughout the Duration of my day-to-day. I cut. I wipe the blood around in circles with my Fingertips in order to prove to myself that I Am, in fact, REAL, present, mortal. I dig deep with a kitchen knife, I slice Haphazardly, unconsciously searching, Praying, even, for that feeling, that Knowledge that I am a being; a human Being, capable of dying, capable of emitting This red, sticky substance which oozes from My arms, my legs. I don’t care anymore if it’s seen, if it’s known That I need this confirmation. I cut. I breathe in fresh air every time I slice flesh And I feel, I feel, I feel. I live, I am a person, I am here on earth, On this corrupt planet of suffering; I am a body carrying a heart which will One day stop beating. And I don’t want it to stop, and yet… I do. So many times, I do. But the constant remains, let me live And suffer, and above all, LOVE. I can withstand the pain if such Pain is worth undergoing. Stop. I cut to bring myself back to reality, To remind myself to breathe. Oxygen fills my lungs when the blood Comes into view and then, right there, I know that I exist.