When I’m used, I’m useless.
Once offered, soon rejected.
In desperation, I’m often expressed.
What am I?

I am always hungry and need to be fed,
But whatever I touch will soon turn red.
What am I?

I don’t burn, but I illuminate.
I’m silent, yet I show the unseen.
I bring clarity, but never speak.
What am I?

My point is sharp,
But I cause no pain.
I speak silently, and people listen.
What am I?

My edges are sharp,
But I need both sides to work.
I’m useless alone.
What am I?

I begin in stillness and end in bloom.
I am buried, but not dead.
I disappear to be reborn.
What am I?

I can destroy cities or inspire poems.
I have no eyes, yet I touch everything.
You call me chaos,
But I always follow laws.
What am I?

I am not written, but I am read.
You didn’t choose me, but I chose you.
I can be twisted, edited, or flawed,
But I am the foundation of everything you are.
What am I?

Three friends check into a hotel room.
It costs $30, so they each pay $10.
Later, the hotel realizes the room should’ve only been $25.
The bellhop returns $5, but can’t split it evenly,
So he gives each friend $1 back and keeps $2.

Now each friend paid $9 (3×9 = 27), plus the $2 the bellhop kept = $29.
Where’s the missing dollar?

I hold you without hugging,
I lift you without arms.
I wait in silence for your weight.
What am I?