Answer:
It is the electronic version of junk mail or a salty meat in a can.
I fly, yet I have no wings. I cry, yet I have no eyes. Darkness follows me. Lower light I never see.
Always old, sometimes new. Never sad, sometimes blue. Never empty, sometimes full. Never pushes, always pulls.
You should keep it as straight as can be, yet very few do. Most of the time it's slightly bent or curved. Your sadness usually causes it to bend further, but donβt bend it for too long or it may never be able to fully straighten out again. What is it?
White bird, featherless, flying out of paradise. Flying over sea and land. Dying in my hand.
People take me on walks and I run and have fun. What am I?