I am Ozymandias, king of kings!

Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!

Ozzy hasn’t got the self-awareness to remember how the rest of the poem goes.

He loves gold and jewels, crowns, shiny fabrics, mirrors both small and large, and looking at himself. He’s not mean so much as he is just 100% disengaged from people around him - after all, when you look THIS good, who needs friends?