Riddle

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The more that it burns and the more the wind blows

The closer the death of an ember

The more that you pick it the larger it grows

Now how hard is that to remember

Taken by bug bites or bothersome rashes

When measles crawl under your britches

Akin to the ember which turns into ashes

The more that you scratch it, it itches

As you live longer you're closer to death,

When you're awake more you miss sleep

The more you take air in with each of your breaths,

The less taken air you will keep

A hole in the ground gets bigger than now

When you take away Earth with a hoe

And the more open space that you give to a cow

The less fat the creature will grow

Gifts, nurture, love, unconditional praise

Can spoil the sweetest of babies

The more that you guide it, it loses its way

Its yes's and no's become maybe's

Grab on too tight and you're bound to let go

More likely so with a tight grip

Stay in the race, but go steady and slow

If you don't then you surely will slip

Babies' gums chew on things more when they teethe

The more that it chews they grow sharp

Love someone so much, they can no longer breathe

If you give them too much of your heart

So don't be dramatic and anxious and worried

You don't even know what comes next

The more that you rush then the more you'll be hurried

The quiet ones show more respect

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