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 You're writing on pieces of paper Your left arm, not your right You were right-handed But sadly, not tonight Your hair shivers and itches Every moment you breathe You shake and you wrangle Trying hard to see. But your bubbling vision fades With great pain, and haste Slowly they tumble out Free from your wake But you push them aside And they fall just like pleasure The game isn’t fun And you have to take measures Then there’s itching, Again, You grimace painfully Your hollow skull is now itching manically But your hand can’t stop writing The last thing that you lost You’ve seen a slice of heaven Now witnessing its cost Trembling pain rips through your body It heats, and you shake enough, to leave scratches on your page But you have to continue, Cold bone slices through gummy meat Every crevice from brain to soul Is warming up, and growing teeth Molars, wisdom, sharp and dull Are ripping teething as they grow And pain is taking root and hold Words escape your hollow mouth Your skull, its jaws are hollow, shut And your right hand Makes a ripping sound And blood pours on your neck As it raises, Your toothy smile looks at you With humming eyes That clatter with pain And you can’t open your eyes in fright For your last thought is fear Fear you didn’t write enough Fear what's left is teeth and blood Not paper, Or pen, Or a name, Or memory, Of what was written. But a broken pile of teeth and mud Watched by eyes from heaven above Laying on the floor, Rotting like pleasure.
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