The Shadow Hunter

A poem about not getting the one you want, because it's clear you want them.

From the eerie lands of reverie
Lies the sun to quell dream’s center,
While the patrons of promiscuity,
The shadow hunters blithely enter.
Deforest, shifting real plateaus,
Yet darkening a youth’s demise,
A pleasure to pair but expose
The lusty maiden’s sultry eyes.

Armored gents seal the walkway
While vicious tanks charge at will –
Will Daddy’s princess long to stray
Amid the conquests, gory still? 
But black is white on either side –
These healthy faces must protect
Their readiness to revolve, reside
In seductive roles that won’t deflect.

These matters seem most obvious,
A spectacular thought, a dubious fire,
And never worth the hassle or stress,
As all seems aimed, a marked desire.
For every hunter is bathed in shadow
To gain on their prescriptive prey;
To land the crucial shot or blow,
The victim must not go astray!