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 Stuttering heaves of prickling breaths the wind I swallowed is laughing at me or is it the oxygen it boasts that mocks the lungs that crave ammunition, cogent, to birth veristic life? Whatever it is, I’m past caring yet the people who pretend they are stalk my feet their mouths speak of giving up the search but they forget that I’m dead, not deaf, not blind mindful of the gazes tracing the lines of a corpse steps following steps on ceaseless trails spears and crossbows in hand, hunting wild geese quiet desperation louder than the forest we’re in hunger crawling at the flesh beneath our skins I know you’re tired, and I am too The chains tethering us to each other some ingot, some forged cage our necks and seal our fates they hurt the same, hurt the same So when we reach that cliff we knew was coming I’ll feign surprise at the “told you so” slug the bile of regret and rue spew the ire in irony and curse myself for the curse you’re in empty apologies for empty promises you wish I’m sorry but I never am not enough to turn back and say goodbye to that buoyant dream the thought of which became a dream not enough to make the leap to ebullient seas and drown in the red of your wounds that taste black cherry with cuts of my own Soles glued to the fickle quicksand they call time, there is the painting of swollen eyes tattooed on mine paralyzed, I try to enounce the pain I’m in except my tongue becomes treacle, and moulds words I can’t recognize, don’t mean to say but I know that they hurt the same, hurt the same.
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