Answer:
I am the black child of a white father a wingless bird flying even to the clouds of heaven. I give birth to tears of mourning in pupils that meet me even though there is no cause for grief and at once on my birth I am dissolved into air.
I have a name that's not mine and no one cares about me in their prime. People cry at my sight and lie by me all day and night.
The faster you run, the harder it is to catch me. What am I?
I am easy to waste. I am unstoppable. What am I?
Roast, boast, coast, post. What do you put in a toaster?
It flows out of the soil, It burns you if it boils, And holds us in its coils, More valuable than gold, As black as it is old.