Royal produce

You are both wrong in your construct.

It's a strange sensation - a lump,

a cancer in the throat, at first sight,

and a lump at the last. Why let this

frivolous, awful moment dent the

outward sturdiness and inward fragility

of an equally frivolous, awful construct?

There is little point in celebration

when the only person to truly elate

is no one at all.

Celebration of a construct.

Whether this construct is natural or un,

it shrivels and decays all the same.

Why ornate a slab of concrete?

Why decorate a slap on the cheek?

Why adorn a step in the foul

of the unuseful, unpriceless

cohabitors of a beautiful rock?

It's quite the bother.

You are neither right nor wrong,

when you both will perish.

You are both wrong in your construct -

just as they are frivolous in theirs. 

"Oh, what's the bloody point?"