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 They once were men, but not these days. See their quest for power in their starving gaze. A people once so, prospered and proud. Since then let in, much dark they've allowed. A thirst unquenched, always wanting more. Greed has sickened them, stricken to the core. In a desolate place where the sky burns red. And a noxious cloud ever hangs overhead. Through the mountain pass, beyond the magma blasts. Way down there where it bubbles through the ground. Down there's where, where the Sterchin be found. They conjure poison, exhale disease. They'll show no pity towards your mercy pleas. Their journey's thinned them out, stretched them tall. They feel no fear, nor remorse at all. With such great will, to destruct, to destroy. Breathing death and decay is their one true joy. Sick spreaders, rot-bringers, with a waving of their fingers. Lift the dead up, make them walk. Their wicked touch, long it lingers. Practice arts of black, dark rituals too. Things of this are what the Sterchin, they pursue. Glowing white eyes, and pale burned skin. The scars they carry show their desires of within. To melt away, the flesh of all those who oppose. Soon they'll have their way, is how their prophecy it goes. The plague-bringers of old, are coming so I'm told. Leaving everything, in their wake, dead and cold. Green smoke's in the skies, the elders so advise. Grab your swords, swords and boards. The Sterchin lords are on the rise.
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