You thank for me beneath the Christmas tree, I hope you can save me from myself. Add one word, and I'll help you when you're stranded, become me to reach the highest shelf.

Have letters but is not a book Have picture but is not a wall Is round but is not a wheel

At a story’s end, I patiently dwell, But inside your body, I might raise hell. Read me or cut me, either one clicks; I'm found in your books and biology’s mix.

I'm a dark, sticky fluid, and a voice you command. I'm thrown in a game, or raised by a hand. I demand careful delivery but have no mail, A low, deep example that helps you prevail.

I am known for outlasting kings in sealed stone rooms, but I do not sour though seasons gnaw at tombs. You might Name a loved one after me.