Behind me trail the darkened lines. I keep beasts of troughs within my confines. Great men wield me in place of a sword, Yet pigs turn me to a filthy horde.

I can be shot, but I cannot shoot. People use me to liquify fruit.

My first half is bogus. My second half is waste. Nevertheless, I ensure cleanliness.

I fill new walls and papers Until your work is done. You rack your brain for answers, Then draw me when there’s none.

Wars are won by my employ, you need me for games to enjoy. I have great potential and am kind of essential. A bankers delight I am capable of flight. Nothing is free from me. I might weigh little, but the guilty are crushed under my weight.