I wear many crowns, though I thrive in the decay, A lord of the ruins where flesh fades away. Some call me a demon, a prince of the night, While others see wings taking buzz-heavy flight. I feast on corruption, I breed in the grime, A master of chaos since the dawning of time.

I wear the night in polished skin, A stone so dark the light slips in. I gleam like glass yet stay earth born, A quiet black with edges worn. In rings and charms I often hide, A shadow kept where beauty can reside. What am I, deep and smooth in my role, A gem like midnight shaped from stone?

You might get this from a skunk if you get in their way, Or put this in your hair to style it for the day, It's a word to describe flowering plants like millet, Or a verb spreading small particles to cover or fill it

What did the Owl who majored in literature say?

A cute marine mammal, or a piece of wax you might put on an envelope.