Answer:
It has no top or bottom, but it can hold flesh, bones, and blood all at the same time.
Always old, sometimes new. Never sad, sometimes blue. Never empty, sometimes full. Never pushes, always pulls.
It holds most knowledge that has ever been said. But is not the brain, is not the head. To feathers and their masters, it's both bane and boonΒ One empty, and one full.
Look into my face and I'm everybody. Scratch my back and I'm nobody.
What is it that was given to you, belongs only to you. And yet your friends use it more than you do?
What is so fragile that saying its name breaks it?