Answer:
Voiceless it cries, Wingless flutters, Toothless bites, Mouthless mutters. What is it?
You get many of me, but never enough. After the last one, your life soon will snuff. You may have one of me but one day a year, When the last one is gone, your life disappears.
What force and strength cannot get through. I, with a gentle touch, can do. Many in the street would stand. Were I not a friend at hand.
Sometimes I am loud. And viewed with distaste. Poke out my 'eye', then I'm on the front of your face.
What do you have when you're sitting down that you don't have when you're standing up?
What do you purposefully put lots of in and on your body, but run away from when you encounter it outside?