The Bodyguard’s Tale

Once an officer of the great Air Force,
I ended up changing my life’s hard course.
Yes, I ended up as a bodyguard,
One more who received Mr. Nacho’s card.
But I hated my job, for I loved cash,
And wanted lots of it in a short flash.

After I had worked twenty years of life,
I could say I had been stabbed with a knife,
Shot five times, and kidnapped twice.
I was fed up of playing cards and dice,
Of receiving a low pay for being in cars,
Having a Glock and more weapons of mars.

The idea of defending a man,
Who had made a fortune in a huge clan,
Still makes my stomach revolt in despair.
For Nacho had killed hundreds, wasn’t fair,
Nor moral with his friends in the government,
And hoped dead or drawn in an accident.

On my disastrous last trip to the FARC,
Of which I was let free by a friend, Mark,
I negotiated a deal with him,
A complot to kill alias Ibrahim,
My one and only boss, for a huge sum.
And so I was compromised for my bum.

The day we killed Nacho I went to church,
Prayed for mercy and good luck in my search
With the money I was about to earn,
Of love and happiness, before I burn,
As all humans do with their sin, lament,
And unhappiness due to their loved cent.

That Friday I checked my bullet-proof vest,
Loaded my guns’ mags and wished for the best.
I took a cab to Nacho’s huge mansion,
Prepared the car in its full expansion,
Joked a bit with my colleagues and the maids,
And spoke to my boss of the route’s parades.

We left at ten and by twelve we met them,
They had parked at the corner’s apothem,
With a couple M60’s on the trucks,
barbed wire on the road, and in a big ruck.
I sat by Nacho’s side, in the car’s back,
And as we slowed down beside the truck’s black,
Rusty machine-gun, I took out my gun,
and shot him twice by his dark, swollen gum.

As I ran out, the convoy burst in flames,
They shot incendiary rounds at the frames,
Killing all, destroying the evidence.
I stayed there in the police’s absence,
Until they came, heard my story and left,
Sending some cranes and repairing the cleft.

Some days later I received my money,
And left the country to find my honey.
I don’t feel bad, for I got rid of pest,
And enjoyed life’s wonderful flashing fest.