primary material?

(to make a note of tonight)

**
what am I made of?

it's not like I were of glass
;you would see right through me
and beware of tumbles,
have me on the mantel
and dust off occasionally

it's not like I were of leather
;you would use me for my good qualities
and cut up to size,
wear me to save your skin
and throw out when wornout

it's not like I were of clay
;you would mold me anyway you please
and knead with knuckles,
wash me off your hands when you're done
and leave to dry out

it's not like I were of stone
;you would get no response
and feel alone,
look for a softer place to rest your head
and kick me aside

it's not like I were of fire
;you would burn to blisters
and shun off,
heal slowly with a tortured smile
and admire from afar

but if you were to do harm
I would break into pieces,
would stiffen up,
would turn into a soggy mess,
I would turn cold and relentless to the touch,
I would die out as flames do

imperfection,
here it lies
disappointment,
here it comes:
I am of human,
not very practical