She's all copper-skinned now, fragile and tarnished. Malleable though - she can be polished.
Letting go is agony. That sweet fear of floating, current-bound, after the exhaustion of trying to fight the tide. She has to remind herself, "this is where you are going. May as well fight your own legs, your own hands, your own heart."
Gut instincts feel so...visceral after so long swallowing antacid fears and soothing addictions - the taste of comfort sickly-sweet now. She feels it there, in her bowels, that this all hangs in the balance - the necessary crumbling before rebirth, the shattering of a mirror that's reflected only lies.
She's all copper-skinned now and ready to mold herself to something new.
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