What is put in our drink; yet for bovine poor feed For pollution we think; that less plastic we need. It's a turtle's mistake; for this is their cancer. If befuddled this make; we grasp for this answer.

I hide in plain sight, reflecting your gaze, I’m quiet at dawn but dazzle in fragmented rays. I’m framed but not painted, held but not hugged, and when I’m cracked, your luck is undone.

I show, I tell, but you wouldn’t say I do the thing I’m named for. If you forget me, you have my number in your phone.

I am at the base of what bakers do, but mobsters love me too. What am I?

In a cage with cellmates am I, And as I pound on the bars, they sigh But if I am ever to be free The world around me ceases to be