Answer:
Only two backbones and thousands of ribs.
Bury deep, Pile on stones, My mind will always Dig up them bones
It holds no blessings in disguise. Its rhymes are aimed at your demise, it's cast only to ruin, Whatever you are doin'.
What force and strength cannot get through. I, with a gentle touch, can do. Many in the street would stand. Were I not a friend at hand.
You get many of me, but never enough. After the last one, your life soon will snuff. You may have one of me but one day a year, When the last one is gone, your life disappears.
I flow from the Homerβs mouth when he sees doughnuts.