Answer:
A young man wants to have me but when he has me he no longer wants me. Blade in hand he attacks me and does his best to remove me. Yet he knows that it is all in vain.
I am easy to see but no one likes looking at me. Without me there would be no you. I can make you complain or make you happy. But you almost always take me for-granted.
As a stone inside a tree, I’ll help your words outlive thee. But if you push me as I stand, the more I move the less I am.
My teeth are sharp my back is straight to cut things up it is my fate.
I am a beverage named after a stick.
It flows out of the soil, It burns you if it boils, And holds us in its coils, More valuable than gold, As black as it is old.