Duality, reality

I am the wind, frozen stone in the farthest beach of our town where I was built like this, with glass from the broken reality of two worlds, a violent cause, unfinished pragmatism. It is close to contempt but I am sceptical about the idea of breathing, shining, swaying back and back and, given that this was the sweetest movement in years, I perceived an inconvenient legend of modern hope, hence I was murdered, murdered by the ravishing miracle of life, dual characters, unfinished rails.