Some consider me beautiful, others ugly. I'm a permanent reminder of harm but also of survival. My lips are sealed yet still tell stories - sometimes comedic, sometimes horrific, and occasionally both. I can't be truly bought nor borrowed, only earned. Sometimes I'm the most visible when I'm invisible.

This is the last one. I don't have any more patience nor things to write. What am I?

I’m born of a sigh and a long, weary stare, When patience packs up and leaves you there. I’m not quite angry, just thoroughly done Eyebrows raised, but no need to run.

You do not need this to jump out of a plane, you do need it if you want to do it twice.

I used to go under your armpit, under your tongue or where the sun doesn't shine. Nowadays I go into your ear. A much more comfortable design.