I have a magic box, inside it you can see: the past, the present, the truth and the imaginary. It sits upon a wooden throne so everyone can share, but don’t stare at it too much, or else your eyes just might turn square.

I have legs but cannot walk, I have pockets but no pants, and everyone loves to hit my balls.

Honestly, this explanation should be enough, it was made to decieve you to make it more tough. what am I?

A grammarian fellow once quoth, I give you my solemn rhymed oath That one cannot be. Two can, easily. But three or more can't, by my troth.

My world is more colorful than you can fathom, and my body reflects that. For how small I am, I am immensely powerful, and can kill just by punching in your general direction, well maybe not yours, human, but I can probably break some of your bones.