Modern children get hooked on my use, Some forms of me are swallowable and prone to abuse, A paper of stone, words chiselled in All share this word - let the guessing begin!

I am used to see, but not many use me anymore. In one eye and not the other, I'm tied to the Mandela effect..oh brother

Behold my size, I’m considered a God! A fatal taste of me and you may not grow old. I may be a gigantic blazing clod, or I may help in measures of the cold.

A capsule of memory, so silent and still, At home on the mantle, yet I may cause a chill. One who danced with the fire, now cold to the touch, I cradle what’s left, when there once was so much.

Where buildings are without living people Where plants have taken control Where the silence can be disturbing, yet the voice of a stranger is even scarier