Answer:
What always ends everything?
I contain six letters minus one and you got twelve.
My voice is tender, my waist is slender and I'm often invited to play. Yet wherever I go, I must take my bow or else I have nothing to say. What am I?
The more you have me, the less you see. Shine a light on me and I flee. What am I?
My first two letters say my name. My last letter asks a question. What I embrace I destroy.
Runs over fields and woods all day. Under the bed at night sits not alone, With long tongue hanging out, Resting at your feet until we go for a walk