I’m a foot that never feels the floor, I clip and clop from door to door. My shoe is mine since I was born, on horse or cow, I’m proudly worn.

In my flight I circle back, a wooden acrobat. Throw me away, yet I return, a lesson in life's twist and turn.

People will try to correct you, In fact they all are wrong, Read of my deeds, And you shall see, I WAS the monster, all along

He took away six of my name I am left with one, what a shame But my old pals, they still call me the same Chirp chirp, it’s lively here, twenty-four seven I am a place for your short opinions

A candle does it, and so do overworked people-though only one involves a literal flame being extinguished. The first four say what a fire does, the last three are what you do to leave.