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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www.poetrysoup.com - Create a card from your words, quote, or poetry
Who Did the Dishes Part 1
*SECOND AND THIRD POSTED SEPARATELY* This is not quite a poem but is 100% truthful. i frantically wrote all of this on my phone hidden behind closed doors. It does not rhyme, but it certainly comes from the soul, which might indeed make it count as poetry. I've censored out names because I prefer to be anonymous on this site. thanks I will never be able to tell anyone the truth. I don't do it. I wanted to write. I say wanted because I am writing now but oh how I've waited. Not on anyone else but on me. I watched myself ignore the need to write this. Emotional urge to write insanely strong I'm told to do the dishes. Weak attempt to get out of it failed. My emotions. They're boiling with god knows what and I think "dear lord how will I be able to respond like a normal human right now" but I do. Effortlessly I laugh and joke and speak like my brain isn't currently on fire. Effortlessly. It has positive connotation doesn't it? It's effortless because I couldn't stop it. I. Couldn't help but watch from my own eyes screaming to go to my computer and write but I did the dishes. Just slowly did the dishes in silence. They left the house to walk- it could've been my chance to run to the keyboard and vomit my words up but I did the dishes because I am a good girl. I screamed. Why do I lie? I didn't scream. Inside I did. Or did I? I can't be sure which part is me and which is the mask- or if the mask is me after all. I ran to the bathroom after completing the dishes. I'm writing this draft hidden in the bathroom. What if someone came up my stairs to see me writing freakishly fast? I would seem weird. But don't I want to? Do normal people do this? I don't know if I want them to. I want nothing more than to confirm I'm normal yet nothing more than to confirm I am unique. Tock tock. Which is it? Perhaps I want nothing more. Perhaps this is it. I want nothing more. Maybe there is no such thing as the clarity i speak of. Is this how all humans feel? Do I want them to feel like this? Do I want to be special or happy tock tock tick tock I can't decide. I can't do anything until I decide yet I still do everything before I decide. I value honestly more than anything yet I lie constantly. Effortlessly I lie. I'm screaming inside but I can't help my body going through the motions of normality. It's the ultimate lie because everything I do is through a filter. A filter that bloodies my actions red. It's not cherry flavored.
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Book: Shattered Sighs