Answer:
I fly through the air on small feathered wings, seeking out life and destroying all things.
Soft and fragile is my skin, I get my growth in mud. Iām dangerous as much as pretty, for if not careful, I draw blood.
What moves without seeing and cries without eyes?
Lovely and round, I shine with pale light, grown in the darkness, a lady's delight.
A doctor might remove one from the neck of a Dracula victim.
Black we are and much admired. Many seek us if they are tired. We tire the horse, and comfort man, and turn White when we've fulfilled your plan.