I entered this into the Poetry section of my school's contest (You can view "The Night of Broken Glass", which is in the "Short Story" section which was also entered) and now that the contest is over, I thought I would share my poem (39 Line Sestina):

You built me a church
With vibrant stained glass
With a powerful, high steeple
With an earth-jarring bell
With elaborate wooden pews
And with me in mind

I thought you wouldn’t mind
What I did with that church
How I treated it as gently as glass
How I adored life from the steeple
The songs I played from that bell
That played music for the pews

As you sat in the pews
You had more than faith in mind
You considered profit from the church
And the value of the stained glass
And every brick that made the steeple
But not the music from the bell

You came as deafening as the bell
And tainted all the pews
Greed destroyed your vulnerable mind
When everyone entered the church
They only saw stained glass
And the strength inside the steeple

But all forgot the steeple
Was housing that placid bell
And only thought of how it towered over the pews
All because of your corrupted mind
Outside they saw a church
Inside they saw stained glass

Finally, you sold off all the glass
And dismantled that wicked steeple
You thought to Hell with the bell
It went half-off with the pews
You had only gain on your mind
As you sold away my church

I cried in that place devoid of pews
Yet I still had faith on my mind
I no longer need your church