Answer:
I have a name written on me, but it isnβt my name. Men plant me, but I never grow. They look at me and see their future, rotting in my bloom.
I cut through evil like a double edged sword and chaos flees at my approach. Balance I single-handedly upraise through battles fought with heart and mind instead of with my gaze.
I am made by nature soft as silk; A puffy cloud white as milk; Snow tops this tropical crop; The dirtiest part of a mop.
I am clean when Iβm black dirty when Iβm white.
I encourage people to run home and steal
hey are producers of pies and burgers and are great for tipping.