Answer:
I regularly change shape yet remain a sphere. I am always there but not often seen. What am I?
Everyone asks for me but yet everyone hates to face me. For someone I am agony for others I am relief. Who am I?
I am always in front of you, but yet I am never here. What am I?
I have a name written on me, but it isn’t my name. Men plant me, but I never grow. They look at me and see their future, rotting in my bloom.
As I went over London Bridge I met my sister Jenny; I broke her neck and drank her blood and left her standing empty.
The answer I give is yes, but what I mean is no. What was the question?