I found a bone inside some blades of grass.
Could it be Ozymydias the poets dead king?
It must of been the knite who slayed his terror.
I was alone when his steel blade took my life.
Helplessly I heard the grave become my works.
The stone I read out loud around overgrown weeds
Soon opened up, and I tried to run away.
The yellow eyes like a demons eyes,  met my face.
the darkness in his corpse began surounding every grave.
My breath was cold, my shaking body froze as if he had a gun.
Then he ozymydias began to yell at my dying soul.
"Im ozymydias, read my works, Forget me and I will return".
"Few contempoarys have spoken to me, they who remember me
have my mark".  

My arm became a lake of flames.  
His claws penetrated my skin.
On my arm I saw his name.
In me now is ozymydias
the poets dead king.

I took his bone and ranaway,
And at my house I threw it
In the fire place.  I watched
it burn like a horrible book.