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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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I’m sure you don’t remember me Yet forever branded upon my memory is your evil spree I was far from your only victim You and your pack bullying ever so gruesome You first noticed me in the 7th grade Only late in high school did your interest fade I was vulnerable The sight of you made me fearful I was admittedly awkward Emotionally, you sent me needlessly backward I only wanted a chance to grow To let my emotions openly flow I gave no thought to living amongst a foe I was overweight, too smart for my own good I had few friends, none from my hood Even few in band with whom I played Each confrontation with you, my mind further decayed I played the flute It was my only voice, the other having become mute My best friend looked like me, dressed like me She was smart like me You called us gay when we were straight Bullying with so much hate You bark ‘shut up’ whenever I begin to speak Treating me as if a freak Your text messages make me sob Unraveling inside, I become increasingly macabre You cause me to feel isolated, alone Depressed I lie in my bed, prone Feeling hopeless, is this my destiny My life – so empty, I stare blankly I think about cutting As my emotions are convulsing I didn’t deserve the anger cast upon me What was wrong with me Why did you choose me Will I ever be set free You made me sick, I began to pray Yet it was I who had become a preyed upon victim Now, just two years later From a bench in Washington Square Park I recall those days ever so dark I hoped you were in jail so you could inflict hurt no more I wished you the sadness you had made my personal lore I soon found your story and trembled fiercely as I read: The body of Dylan Robinson, a 20 year old man, was found among the ashes of a seven story high rise in the Hunt’s Point section of the Bronx this morning at 2AM. Mr. Robinson lived in the building with his mother. The unemployed auto mechanic died of asphyxiation resulting from a fire that started in a neighbors apartment. Firemen on the scene cite Mr. Robinson for his heroism in saving the lives of Dom and Maria Cromartie, ages 5 and 4. Mr. Robinson passed both children to a fireman positioned on a ladder outside a fourth story window. As Robinson passed the children to the fireman, the floor collapsed, consuming him in flame not to be seen alive again. Of Mr. Robinson, the fireman said, “Strangely he smiled as he passed the children to me, as if unaware of his danger. As I motioned him to step onto the ladder he said something just as the floor gave way beneath him. I don’t know what he meant, but he said, “one good deed”, then he perished.” Mr. Robinson’s father is in prison for domestic violence and armed robbery. His mother, unemployed and a reputed alcoholic survived the blaze and is resting comfortably in Bronx Lebanon Hospital. Trembling harder, gasping, as if again 12 and he with me I see something in this moment I had not seen before He endured pain at least equal to mine own His response to the mayhem of his life was to bully others I don’t condone his chosen course Yet I now have perspective from an unexpected source That in itself is a joyous revelation My sense of self experiencing rapid elevation Relieved, overjoyed, I scream - It wasn’t me It was never me, I was convenient, nothing more I stop trembling, breathing steadier A chapter in my life’s book quietly closing I now realize, both he and I were Preyed upon victims

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Preyed Upon Victim

I’m sure you don’t remember me Yet forever branded upon my memory is your evil spree I was far from your only victim You and your pack bullying ever so gruesome You first noticed me in the 7th grade Only late in high school did your interest fade I was vulnerable The sight of you made me fearful I was admittedly awkward Emotionally, you sent me needlessly backward I only wanted a chance to grow To let my emotions openly flow I gave no thought to living amongst a foe I was overweight, too smart for my own good I had few friends, none from my hood Even few in band with whom I played Each confrontation with you, my mind further decayed I played the flute It was my only voice, the other having become mute My best friend looked like me, dressed like me She was smart like me You called us gay when we were straight Bullying with so much hate You bark ‘shut up’ whenever I begin to speak Treating me as if a freak Your text messages make me sob Unraveling inside, I become increasingly macabre You cause me to feel isolated, alone Depressed I lie in my bed, prone Feeling hopeless, is this my destiny My life – so empty, I stare blankly I think about cutting As my emotions are convulsing I didn’t deserve the anger cast upon me What was wrong with me Why did you choose me Will I ever be set free You made me sick, I began to pray Yet it was I who had become a preyed upon victim Now, just two years later From a bench in Washington Square Park I recall those days ever so dark I hoped you were in jail so you could inflict hurt no more I wished you the sadness you had made my personal lore I soon found your story and trembled fiercely as I read: The body of Dylan Robinson, a 20 year old man, was found among the ashes of a seven story high rise in the Hunt’s Point section of the Bronx this morning at 2AM. Mr. Robinson lived in the building with his mother. The unemployed auto mechanic died of asphyxiation resulting from a fire that started in a neighbors apartment. Firemen on the scene cite Mr. Robinson for his heroism in saving the lives of Dom and Maria Cromartie, ages 5 and 4. Mr. Robinson passed both children to a fireman positioned on a ladder outside a fourth story window. As Robinson passed the children to the fireman, the floor collapsed, consuming him in flame not to be seen alive again. Of Mr. Robinson, the fireman said, “Strangely he smiled as he passed the children to me, as if unaware of his danger. As I motioned him to step onto the ladder he said something just as the floor gave way beneath him. I don’t know what he meant, but he said, “one good deed”, then he perished.” Mr. Robinson’s father is in prison for domestic violence and armed robbery. His mother, unemployed and a reputed alcoholic survived the blaze and is resting comfortably in Bronx Lebanon Hospital. Trembling harder, gasping, as if again 12 and he with me I see something in this moment I had not seen before He endured pain at least equal to mine own His response to the mayhem of his life was to bully others I don’t condone his chosen course Yet I now have perspective from an unexpected source That in itself is a joyous revelation My sense of self experiencing rapid elevation Relieved, overjoyed, I scream - It wasn’t me It was never me, I was convenient, nothing more I stop trembling, breathing steadier A chapter in my life’s book quietly closing I now realize, both he and I were Preyed upon victims