Midas was my enemy,
A violent grip, on an old pen
Tossed it over for me to bend
Words for his twisted golden mind

The cursed King with all his riches
Wanted the prose for cure
A rhythmic rhyme  to rid his shine
To end his touch of alchemy

I pitied the old man, his metallic
Skin, did send shivers down my spine
I offered a verse, reading and lips pursed
As 24 karats fell from his eyes