Answer:
Bury deep, Pile on stones, My mind will always Dig up them bones
Soft and fragile is my skin, I get my growth in mud. Iβm dangerous as much as pretty, for if not careful, I draw blood.
Thirty white horses on a red hill, first they champ, then they stamp, then they stand still.
Screaming, soaring seeking sky. Flowers of fire flying high, Eastern art from ancient time, Name me now and solve this rhyme.
What has four wings but cannot fly and uses the wind but does not know why?
If itβs information you seek, come and see me. If itβs pairs of letters you need, I have consecutively three. What am I?