I turn once, what is out will not get in. I turn again, what is in will not get out. What am I?

I live in a box, but I’m never alone, with colors galore, I brighten your zone. I’m short and I’m waxy, I love to parade in rainbows and scribbles that children have made. What am I?

I hide in a bag ‘til I’m needed to fly, Then open up wide as I float through the sky. I help you land gently, not fast like a stone. With me, you’re safe when you’ve jumped all alone! What am I?

What’s found on the ground, but never gets dirty?

I march up front with courage and spark, but when I stay in pipes, I’m toxic and stark. One’s a role that stirs the crowd with fire and art, the other’s a metallic weight that’s bad for the heart.