Answer:
It is a part of us, and then replaced. It escapes out bodies, to a better place. The world becomes its sizeable home. Its passions unrestraint, the planet it roams.
I fly through the air on small feathered wings, seeking out life and destroying all things.
I drive men mad for love of me. Easily beaten, never free.
Whoever makes it, tells it not. Whoever takes it, knows it not. Whoever knows it, wants it not. What is it?
I have four wings but cannot fly. I never laugh and never cry. On the same spot always found, toiling away with little sound.
What covers its face with its hands, speaks no language, yet most known what it's saying?