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 I am the prisoner of my own silence, locked in a cell made of hours and shadows, where loneliness wraps its cold fingers around my throat, and the light outside is nothing but a forgotten dream. There is no escape— no door, no window, just the echo of a heart that shattered long ago and no hands left to gather its pieces. I carry the weight of a thousand unsaid words, each one a stone, pressing down on my chest, a burden heavier than time itself. I call out to the world, but my voice is nothing more than the dust of past hopes, scattered on the winds of absence. I am both the wound and the bandage, the broken glass and the scattered reflection, each fragment a memory that cuts deeper when I touch it. And still, no one comes to repair me, no one hears my cries in the hollow chambers of this soul that has forgotten the taste of peace. I see the world move around me, its colors vibrant, its people whole, but I am a shadow beneath their feet, a forgotten poem in a language no one understands. The spaces between us grow wider, and with each passing breath, I fall deeper into the hollow that lives within me, a place where love once bloomed but now withers without a name. And so I remain— a prisoner of my own grief, a heart too broken to heal, too lost to be found. There is no escape, only the weight of time and the endless ache of what could have been.
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