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 is that I am only responsible for what I can change; not the feelings or thoughts or opinions of anyone else -- focusing on these will only bring me down. I was told, repeatedly, that my love is endless and that everyone deserves it; that no one is unworthy of the compassion that I hold within myself. but when I was thirteen and carving the word “noble” into the skin at my hip I did not listen to or believe these truths. I felt I knew, undoubtedly, that every living being, no matter the color of their skin or the idea that we are better, is subjected to the poison in our brains caused by a lack of serotonin that makes us wish we didn’t breathe. that we didn’t wake up in the morning, that we could simply stop existing. I put blame upon myself: my parents’ divorce, my siblings fighting, the very chemical makeup of my body that made me think untoward thoughts and bring razor blades through my skin, rendering me uncomprehendingly mortal. I didn’t know that I could love, that I have an endless bounty of adoration and kindness stored within me which I am to give away freely because there is no one alive who is not noble enough for what I can give them. when I was thirteen my mother supported me through every horizontal slice across my skin and every hit from a pipe that I became familiar with. she watched silently, would come into my room at night and lay with me in somber acceptance because she understood that trying to force me to stop would only make things worse. my mother, who lived through the torment I was forced to accept my first year of high school, the mental breakdowns that kept coming: one after the other, after the other, after the other. my mother, who loved me unconditionally no matter where I was or who I was with or what I was doing. my mother, who taught me how to tear down society’s idea of who I need to be, who taught me that I am free of any obligation to any other human beings. my mother, who taught me how to be a daughter, a lover, a mother. my mother, who taught me how to be, and love; accept; adore myself for it.
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