Answer:
My first is high, My second damp, My whole a tie, A writer's cramp
When you stop and look, you can always see me. If you try to touch, you cannot feel me. I cannot move, but as you near me, I will move away from you.
What is round as a dishpan, deep as a tub, and still the oceans couldn't fill it up?
What is it that was given to you, belongs only to you. And yet your friends use it more than you do?
What can run but canβt walk?
What gets broken if itβs not kept?