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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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Silent Profanities, Revised
the silence of these screaming profanities! only the light rise of my bosom, fluttering erratically, soon to die. ever stinging ache within ablaze, engulfing my torso. my inner-thoughts, my betrayal, weakness emanating from my sweat! my cold cruel heart, shut off from that once intoxicating passion that consumed my soul. bitterness now my old friend, keeping me alive by torture! was i ever a woman consumed by passions, that lived depite my murderous intent? ever drowning in my lovers arms, this wall is built of bitter bricks. My fortress, your all consuming love. i seek you not... must endure a thousand paths of torment and a thousand paths, which have no end or start. my contentment lies in masters of old, for thier insanity is kindred to my own, troubles of the mind. never to recieve any sign, only to grasp, on turn of a phrase, to sustain thought of my bloodsport of art. on the brink of lunacy... never ending craving to read the word or phrase that connects my strewn about dots. barely sane to be sober... cutting deep into my warped inner being, no one one can understand or put meaning to my vague scribblings. I'm not profound, written for an emotional stunt, the ever poetic child. climbing to scratch his mark on forest tree. long forgotten, the passion in this dungeon of my coldest construct. now, know these tradegys scribbled! lines of self pity and contempt, if such are true realities in my backward and warped misinterpretations. fools who find the meaning, never have scratched my surface. nice to think they they can be sympathized when devoid of all true compassions, they lie to them and pretend to get the deeper consciousness born , immaculate, chosen by celestial providence... the passion, she's calling you, has been a forced joke, fit in. but truth be ,told, you have been destined for this auction of your soul, piece by piece, like a bleeding cutout heart, this much be private understood hopefully by you. but your peers will give you accolades and those can't bear to like your work, simply cause they havent reached you realm yet. words to wise; protect your words, as your breath, it's all you really have now; survival
Copyright © 2024 Andrea Travis. All Rights Reserved

Book: Reflection on the Important Things