Answer:
Searing 'cross the pitch-black skies I scream in celebration Yet moments later my outburst through I am naught but imagination.
My full powers come when my makers are dead. I await a heavy hat to put on my head. What am I?
I can run but not walk. Wherever I go, thought follows close behind. What am I?
Teenage girls are pros at creating me. Learn me in classes.
In prison I'll be found. But I would never go to court Unless there's more than one
A cowboy rode into Friday. He stayed in town for three days and rode back on friday. How is that possible?