I’m a tiny gated object that can hold your most precious person.

Tiny guardian on your finger's tip, Shields from needle's painful prick. A tailor's tool, it holds its ground, In sewing's realm, it is renowned.

I am a stick with hair, moving across surfaces and taking care to let my bristles touch everything.

Oh my stars! In a game of boards and bulls, this swift guest strikes true, faster than a cat on a hot tin roof. Its path, like a needle's, finds the mark with the precision of a midnight owl's flight.

I'm created when something breaks, My edges are sharp, be careful for goodness sakes. A piece from a glass, a rock or even a mirror. To be stabbed with me, is surely a horror. Figure this out, it shouldn't be hard...