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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The Bottle
The Bottle Heart aches and pain swallowed up in bottles. Mind aching inside, hard to hide the aftermath of a battered heart, a severed soul, but better alive than dead by your own hands. Take the suicide off cruise control. The ills and chills as another gulp of poison penetrates your veins, and interrupts the sensibility that you so long for -it’s so hard to see. It’s hard to be present. Engulfed in the trap laid out and you run to it so frequently. Leaves your heart like a pillow of pain that you wish you could just lay upon and fall asleep to awaken; and for it all to have just been a dream. But it’s not! And this plot has got your name subscribed and etched into it like it was meant to be. The bottle of tricks, and schemes; lies. Rather straight or mixed, beer or liquor, the shot is a deep throw in a basket of wilderness in this hot heat of hell. When you pour, it scores, every time it escapes the bottle to saturate your pain. Can I be saved? Is this the life for me? Will it be my testimony or will it be my aftermath? Only God knows so steadily I bend my knees to ask? Because this bottle I truly don’t love but hate as it slowly takes my life away. Like a hole in the ground, I’ve been buried alive. The dirt pours more every time I have a drink. Harder to think or concentrate enough to try to dig myself up. I look up but it’s dark and I pray that someone passing by would help me. But they can’t help what they can’t see. Lord give me the strength to not pour again. Instead, equip me with the shovel so I can try my best to dig out this wilderness; suffocating me in and trying to steal my life. Bottles of poison, illness and sorrow, lies and deception all in one swallow. Life is not life in this restriction of sorrow. Bring me a better tomorrow. Sober minded and grateful with a lot of humility and the ears to hear; the eyes to see. Can I be saved? Is this the life for me? Will it be my testimony or will it be my aftermath? Only God knows so steadily I bend my knees to ask? Because this bottle I truly don’t love but hate as it slowly takes my life away. ©StephanieGutierrez2015
Copyright © 2024 Stephanie Gutierrez. All Rights Reserved

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