The Mafia Poem by Davi Viana

One day I was walking in the street than I see
An executive running with a brief
He stopped me and asked for my help
He said he didn't want to go to hell
The mafia told him to develop a gun that would burn everything until it becomes ash
He couldn't counter his fear of that man and its mustache
Besides its mustache, that man had a gun
He was once a hunter but now with that job he was done
He became a bandit and lost its integrity
In its soul, he has no solidarity