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 There is no escape from strange morning whims, when irritation causes numbness in my limbs. Dawn has become an unwelcome nemesis, rage for sunrise an uncontrollable genesis, disturbing the peace of my silent reverie, tormenting all that is felt as sensory. I despise the chirping of hungry birds, so intrusive as they sing in their herds. Echoing like chisels chipping at my head, feeling chained to the corners of my bed. I seek no pardon for my profanity, these moods are ***ing with my sanity. I search for signs of positivity, but daylight always triggers my sensitivity. Mind slices my thoughts through dissections, as I hold my head craving for soundless reflections. Sluggish eyes with black bags and static lips, cringe at the mirror as reality grips, washing away a contradictive smile, without harmony my life is too much of a trial. Thinking f*** my life through censored cries, I don't even have the strength to roll my eyes. Is there a diagnosis for this prognosis? Or will I forever be in this state of hypnosis? I’m neither depressed nor suppressed, in this cramped compression of distress. I’m anxious attempting to figure it all out, stumbling across worn voices begging to shout. Those explosive beats from poisonous roots, soften my crumbling knees like rotten fruits. All I can think is, “oh please, cut that crap” battling my demons, before I finally snap. As my mind bleeds like a demented creep, I no longer require the desire to speak. As talk is cheap, can’t you see all I need is sleep. To forever restrict my emotions before I weep. Tired of being a puppet with twisted strings, I hope these pills can tame my mood swings.
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