Answer:
It is the great nemesis of the lactose intolerant.
Ripped from my mother's womb. Beaten and burned, I become a blood thirsty killer.
What is the heart of many risks, has a heart, but is not a living being?
You heard me before, yet you hear me again, then I die. Until you call me again.
What is it which builds things up? Lays mountains low? Dries up lakes, and makes things grow? Cares not a whim about your passing? And is like few other things, because it is everlasting?
What covers its face with its hands, speaks no language, yet most known what it's saying?