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 All those who chatter behind my back only confirm that I'm moving forward. I don’t slow down— their criticism, their slander is my fuel. Disguised applause from those who never had the guts to walk in my place. They have no purpose but to judge—everything, all the time. Whoever is behind me will stay there until my dusk. No one lives inside my head, no one knows my pain, my wounds, my invisible scars. I don’t judge— I’ve got enough to deal with in this tangled life of mine, in all I've endured since my clandestine arrival in this microcosm. When someone understands me, it’s because they know: our pains are unique. I ask for no judgment. I seek no consolation. My resolve was born in the dark pits of desolation. Pain can go beyond the imaginable. I know people judge harshly, mostly to avoid looking in the mirror. They turn away from others’ suffering and cradle themselves in the illusion it will never knock on their door. But I have never fled. I took the blows—fists clenched, teeth shattered, conscience alert. Each fall straightened my spine. Not out of heroism—out of necessity. They told me to be silent, to swallow my pride, to bow my head. But I was not built to crawl. I wasn’t born to please the tame or comfort the cowardly. I don’t chase approval. I expect nothing from those who’ve never risked anything, built anything, paid anything with their own flesh. I built myself in the thick silence of dead-end nights, in the rancid stench of repeated humiliation. I was taught survival is a bitter science and that dignity bears no flag. I inherited the scars of ancestral memory, the traumas the world prefers to ignore. Not a complaint—just a presence, a naked truth. They can talk, judge, erase me from the frame— I’ll still be a thorn in their comfort, the divine spark they’ll never have the courage to own. My path is battered, but it is mine. And I walk it with the pride of those who never cheated. I don’t need anyone to explain pain to me. I’ve seen it sit at my table uninvited, without pity, serving me its rations of injustice and suffering. I digested them without ever laying down arms, without ever bowing to its tyranny. I grew in the furnace of a chaotic world that manufactures the guilty and recycles executioners into counterfeit heroes. I understood early, truth disturbs, it costs, it isolates— but it also frees us from chains of alienation, submission, corruption, and servitude. I don’t pretend to be strong.
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