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 am a daily ritual involving using a metal tool on the body
I am just two and two. I am hot. I am cold. I am the parent of numbers that cannot be told. I am a gift beyond measure a matter of course. I am given with pleasure when taken by force.
I am whole but incomplete. I have no eyes yet I see. You can see and see right through me. My largest part is one fourth of what I once was.
If I have it I don't share it. If I share it I don't have it. What is it?
It has no top or bottom, but it can hold flesh, bones, and blood all at the same time.