I’m planted to divide but grown to obscure, A promise of safety that’s never quite sure. I soften a stance without taking a side, Let profit or blame slip safely inside. In words I’m a fence with flexible edge, In soil I’m the line you politely won’t pledge.

Sunless tanner, replica designer clothing, someone who is overly nice to your face, faux animal skin or fur, if you feint going one way and then go the other All of the above are a type of me

I am not a frog, but please don't lick me! Also stop talking about and eating my stool you perverts.

From misty whispers in the sky, To droplets where earth's secrets lie. Plants dance and sing, Frogs leap and spring, Nature's tears, a druid's lullaby.. Whatever could I be? Am I something from the sky? The cloud’s tears, that must be why.

All riddles do this; in fact, it’s a trademark part of any puzzle. Politicians do this to hide the truth, spinning lies layer by layer. Instead of keeping things simple, I am the opposite of eschew.