A guardian of some renown, I perch like a spear. I sit beneath the crown, and strike any who draw near. I am a brethren with a spine, and may let you enter my hall. Against giants I hold the line, but not those who are small.

The use in me is left for dead A single flaw is what infects What's in me can't lift its head Press F, pay your last respects

They are dark and always on the run. Without the sun, there would be none. What are they?

Some people describe me as personal space, others claim they can see me. What am I, that's giving off your vibe, your energy?

I have a soft heart but no pulse, and I wear a tailored suit that I must be stripped of before I am consumed. I am often born in a dozen, yet I am always a single serving. Some people say, cake is cake even if it's me.