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 the photo graphic, 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.

Enter Title (Not Required)

Enter Poem or Quote (Required)

Enter Author Name (Not Required)

Move Text:

Heading Text


Main/Poem Text

Background Position Alignment:

Upload Image: 

 10mb max file size

Use Internet Image:

Layout: - Create a card from your words, quote, or poetry
over and over agin
sometimes i talk to myself, my mind is racing, i dont know what to do... so hard to explain. depression isn't a stage or a faze some kids go through it shatters you... i saw it all. she cried silent in her bed, blood stains covered her favorite jeans, her every shirt, long sleeve ofcourse... she suffered through it all with few people to call friend and more to call enemy even more to say where quite dissappointed.... FAT her first name in school, not started by a bully or a mean rival, but by her sister, and it echoed through her soul, repeating in her mind... over and over again, like the ripples of still water when a pebble is dropped flash frozen in time repeating, over and over again... It was the first name they gave her, millions where created over the years, some unique some repeating again, just as the first had.. gothic they called her, emo, fat, ugly....worse things. but in her mind, things where worse. everything was repeating, over and over again, finally she believed it. she asked for help, from everyone tried to explain to parents she wasnt well, got called a psycho for asking to see a theripist, not from a teacher, not from a class mate, but from her own father, who wouldn't, couldn't, believe there could possibly be a thing wrong.... finally, crying, she confessed her bloody secret to a teacher. rather then giving her time, she is sent back to class crying her eyes out, as if she wherent going through enough... she is sent to the principals office a few minutes later, after breaking down in class... the princlipal says she needs help, sends her and her dad for a risk evaluation, her dads crying as she shows him her cuts... they walk into a hospital room, it smells of chemicals and hand sanitizer, the lady at the desk gives her a smile. then she goes into a room with a lady, her cheeks are sunken in and shes wearing way too much makeup, the girl is gaging on her perfume, and she looks really intimidating.... her dark brown hair looks dead and flat even though its a bit wavy, and she wears somewhat of a mocking frown. asks her all these questions, is mommy beating her? no is daddy raping her? no is she doing drugs? not alot is anyone beating her? pass... did anyone molest her? pass.... oxcarbezapine, trazadone, citalipran, clinazapam, colonipan, valium, lithium, more....... and thats what they gave her, more... some numbed the pain some brought it out tearing through her organs, she became an addict by the time she was fourteen.... over dose after over dose some for pleasure some for pain, gashes on her legs getting deeper, this time she didnt tell a soul, not even those she had come to call friends.... wakeup she screamed in her head over and over again as she dropped weight like it was nothing.... you cant controll it she argued as things became worse. at age fourteen she attempted suicide, she didnt quite succeed. the medication took away her aappitite.... she liked it she hated her body hated herself felt out of controll found a new way to cope as she shoved tooth brush after toothbrush down her throat to keep her body from nuitrients... as she whent weeks and weeks spitting food into napkins and making excuses I ate at my friends house.... spoken as a whisper heard like a sentance echoing in her mind over and over again, along with that word, all the words, FAT!!!!!! ugy, anoying, stupid, fake, worthless, nothing... one bite she would say rocking back and forth craving nothing but food her body racked with hunger pain one bite and there she was again FAT! over and over and over again back to a toothbrush this time she sees blood she saw her ribs she saw her bones, it wasnt good enough, she almost died, again.... choking on this deep dissappointment in herself, gaging on everything they where pushing down her throat, their words, and their insults, their criticism.... their drugs all shoved down her throat like candy and just as she was was trained to do she swallowed despite the bad taste or the hurt or the fact that at the rate she was going she would be dead soon... and you know why? because daddy yelled and couldnt accept what was happening not because he wanted to hurt her but because it hurt him, and she let him believe, because she could take the hurt if it meant he didnt have too. because mommy didnt want to sit in her room all day smoking weed doing nothing, practically having us raise ourselves, she didnt mean to take anger, or frustration or hurt out on her daughter she suffered everyday in her solitary confinement, and from a young age she accepted her bedroom was the cage her mother had created for herself. because sister didnt want to effect her the way she did she was just frustrated fed up with the way things where scared, she needed someone to take her cruelty and to help heal her pain... because people in school who where so cruel had to have learned from somewhere and she wasnt going to play into their games, and they knew she was an easy target because she would never attack someone so weak and she accepted her suffering was a sacrafice to help all these people.... to help her dad, her mom, her sister, every person who was beaten abused or hurt and felt so weak at home they wanted to feel strong in the one safe place they had. because depite the fact she had died inside, and almost passed away on the out, it was a saccrafice she was willing to make so that no one else would have to feel that kind of pain, and they all inflicted it and broke her down'untill there was nothing left but a shell of somthing that could have been and never had the chance and why? because she would take it and wouldnt strike back, because sometimes "just taking it" isnt so much about the weakness not to do anything but about the strangth not to hurt others the way they hurt you...
Copyright © 2020 cassie hellberg. All Rights Reserved