I am hoarded in panic, yet I vanish in haste, I stick by your side, in your darkest hour. I ease your toil when nature won’t wait, Then I let you leave in a fresher state.

I used to walk, but now I'm cured, So you won't have to chase me. I come from someplace smoky, And you just can't wait to taste me!

Poor people have me, rich people need me, and if you eat me, you will die. What am I?

I resemble the sound of a thud, but I am not made of wood. People describe me as something they need more of.

I spread like a sneeze but never get sick, I’m born from a joke or a clever old trick. I change my clothes but keep the same face, I live on the internet, all over the place