I may sound like a rude word but I’m just grinding your gears

If you want protection Whether in the garden or Skatepark... Use these To save your... Ummm joints?

I sit beneath a smiling face, most often seen in a formal place.

In a collective, I'm bunnies under your bed, Everyone turns to me when they are dead, I'm dander, I'm fluff, I'm cells that are shed, If I'm not on your stuff I'm in a hoover instead

In the palm, I rest, a guardian of breath, a pocket-sized savior when air feels like a test. With a squeeze and a puff, I grant relief, a quick escape from the chest's silent grief.