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.

On the skin of a peach, the bum of a bee, the static on screens of old CRTs. Add Y to the end, and what name would grace ya? The first of an ursine with full alopecia.

Pallid face, Collared cape, Evening stroll, Nubile nape...