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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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We never asked to be different. We only wanted to walk without folding our souls into apology. To laugh without someone measuring the pitch of our voices and deciding if it was a boy or a girl. To hold a hand without scanning the street like love was a dealer, and we, the addicted. Some greet your heart like a stray: smiling, until it dares too close. Then they kick. But we didn’t break. We stitched dignity from bruises, wrote our names on fogged mirrors with trembling fingers, until one morning, we saw those names and called them sacred. Our skin holds the slurs. Our spines recall nights slept upright, alert, prey even in dreams. We wear color like scars turned holy. We wear love like scripture. We tilt our heads not in shame, but toward heaven, carrying the broken pieces we refused to discard. We don’t march for eyes. We march because we still breathe. Because someone, somewhere, needs proof they can survive the closet, the blade, the therapy, the silence that burns like acid. This is not celebration. This is resurrection. We carry the ghosts: those starved of belonging. We whisper their names like spells to keep the dark at bay, to call that safety. PRIDE is no costume. It’s the raw, unglamorous act of refusing to hate your reflection. And if that’s sin, let us sin Fiercely. Softly. Without apology. Until the sky learns our name.

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Where Light Refuses to Bow

We never asked to be different. We only wanted to walk without folding our souls into apology. To laugh without someone measuring the pitch of our voices and deciding if it was a boy or a girl. To hold a hand without scanning the street like love was a dealer, and we, the addicted. Some greet your heart like a stray: smiling, until it dares too close. Then they kick. But we didn’t break. We stitched dignity from bruises, wrote our names on fogged mirrors with trembling fingers, until one morning, we saw those names and called them sacred. Our skin holds the slurs. Our spines recall nights slept upright, alert, prey even in dreams. We wear color like scars turned holy. We wear love like scripture. We tilt our heads not in shame, but toward heaven, carrying the broken pieces we refused to discard. We don’t march for eyes. We march because we still breathe. Because someone, somewhere, needs proof they can survive the closet, the blade, the therapy, the silence that burns like acid. This is not celebration. This is resurrection. We carry the ghosts: those starved of belonging. We whisper their names like spells to keep the dark at bay, to call that safety. PRIDE is no costume. It’s the raw, unglamorous act of refusing to hate your reflection. And if that’s sin, let us sin Fiercely. Softly. Without apology. Until the sky learns our name.