women as objects

on we go from old to new
may be a facade may be true
not meaning ill will
not meaning to test
still holding hearts
we place on rest
jack sang of hunter
turned huntress

but honestly
i was born one
my daddy raised me
to aim well a gun
what did he know
when he taught me
of impending
necessity

so far from home
and future too
so short a trip
would make old new

or new to old
a story untold
no fight
no fit
just growing cold