Answer:
I'm light as a feather yet the strongest person can't hold me for more than a few minutes. What am I?
Every night I'm told what to do, and each morning I do what I'm told. But I still don't escape your scold. What am I?
Searing 'cross the pitch-black skies I scream in celebration Yet moments later my outburst through I am naught but imagination.
I am an odd number that become even when beheaded.
I am always around you but often forgotten. I am pure and clean most time but occasionally rotten.
The answer I give is yes, but what I mean is no. What was the question?