I have delicate green leaves and a name you might know, But when I turn into seeds, I have a different way to go. To some, I am citrusy, fresh, and bright, To others, a soapy taste is all I invite.

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?

What is made of wood but no saw on earth is sharp enough to cut?