sheet of material bent round you wear it as a bride or groom a ding from a bell or circular shapes in trees

I can spun into gold I can be a man I can be the last Can you guess what I am?

I’m born from something whole but never stay that way. I glitter like treasure yet promise only blood if you’re careless. I remember the shape I used to be, but now I travel alone, a splintered echo of a former self.

First four can be thrown or kicked And on the court can be bricked All together, a pin will pop! Add water and drop.