I ride in a shaky chariot with one bad wheel, while you wait in endless lines to strike an overpriced deal. Then comes the game when I get home, fridge Tetris played with milk and foam.

First three is a tiny insect All six letters are on top of a buck Counted as points, and double checked It could end up on your wall, if you have any luck.

Can lead you to glory, Or drag you through hell... Do as I tell, Or become one yourself?

I wait beside the well where manners wear a borrowed face, Offered with a courteous tone in a cold, enclosed space. I promise comfort to the skin while fear learns how to listen, A civility rehearsed where eyes refuse to glisten. Asked for softly, never kind, a ritual cloaked in notion. What am I, whose slip precedes a chilling devotion?

Of the many plants, I'm in the clade of Roses, and share a family with Lemons. My Latin name shares the first of a headmaster in a school of magic. Light a flame under me and I will ignite. Yet those will know I used to be sold in the depot of homes.