'Impossibility' that I was made. Conspiracy, as some would say. A scheme, they would have you pay. Aliens must be the only way.

Big, small, long, short, regardless of the shape what’s inside of me is the same, yet it’s always different. I can take you around the world, yet I can’t move. I’m silent until I open up, then my word knows no boundaries.

Fuzzy brown without, within I’m green or yellow or ruby red. Little black dots all over. Also named after a bird. What am I?

My mother had little negativity; my father, a lot. They had individual toxicity, but together, did not. They taught me the right and wrong way to be, but little is more brittle than me. What am I?

Eyes like a serpent, bones cold and white, or not. I have many faces but no two are the same.