I wear no skin yet bruise at dusk, I swallow stars and leak out blue. Birds borrow me without a sound, Storms write their tempers on my face. I’m always overhead, never held.

I am NOT what you'd expect to hear from an owl, For what purpose or reason do I lack a single vowel? Oh, English will be cruel if you let her, As for me I only have three, and two could be silent letters.

The bottom of the podium? Yes, that is me.

look up, but not too much look up, but not too far look up, not to the edge look down, you see my name... look round... ah, reddit, where do you keep me? perhaps at the top of the screen?

You might recognise me as a chip brand, Or a type of drum you'll hear in a band, When a stove is lit under me, I can shriek and shout Or what the pot was hypocritical about