A snipers nest. A place to rest. Extended ledge. The view is best. Hey Romeo, Where’s Juliet?

I shade your room or I’m the loss of sight, the same word works for both if used just right.

Caesar complained to Brutus about this pointy thing

Not a spin, I’m sharper still, I sound myself with every kill. Can you bend me to your will?

I'm molded by hand, yet have no form. From earth I arise, through sun and storm. Pottery's my destiny, a vessel to be, Or sculpture's embrace, for all eyes to see. What am I?