Brick by Brick

She wears a stained glass dress.
And shimmers like a rainbow, iridescent.
The light shines in distorted,
Just the way she likes it.
She is far from holy and farther from wholly there.
This unfaithful bride is more like a whore.
With countless men and women,
Pleasing themselves to her image.
On her wrists of folded arms hang long ungrateful offerings.
Until the day her husband comes, and claims his vengeance swiftly.
Her stained glass dress, seen right through, makes her more appealing.
She betrays him day by day, and night by night, and even in between.
And over time her whorishness bleeds through every brick.
Now she desecrates her father, simply by bearing his name.
She drinks the blood of the saints, and rides the dragon’s back.
She stands on every corner, dividing families and nations.

She is the false witness, the devil’s dwelling place.
Burn her to the ground. Tear her limb from limb, brick by brick.

Grief stricken and torn inside,

I remember you, as an infant, so pure, so beautiful, so clean.
Innocent and always learning, fully reliant on your father.

Who do you think you are now? Dressed like THAT!
You’re on EVERY corner! You’re on EVERY street!
A quick fix, and easy. A convenience in our destitute lives.
So filthy and rotten, I look at my past where I knew you.
And regret. Regret ever having been inside you. You spread disease.
Next time we meet, I will have an army, and our sword’s will be drawn.
You’re gaudy crucifix hanging from your neck will be the millstone.
And the lake will burn like fire, but you’ll never drown.

Brick by Brick

Nick Runckel

Toledo, United States

  • Artist
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