Answer:
A dagger thrust at my own heart dictates the way I'm swayed. Left I stand and right I yield to the twisting of the blade. What am I?
My days are numbered.
By Moon or by Sun, I shall be found. Yet, if there's no light around, I am undone. What am I?
I am round. I have only one line. Circle is not my name indeed. What am I?
Walk on the living, they donβt even mumble. Walk on the dead, they mutter and grumble. What are they?
What do you call a male renaissance artist with a bowl of jelly?