There I lay, ghostly white, wrapped in spirals of cords.
I feel trapped, orange battery juice seeping into me.
The halo swarms around my sister’s head.
Why can she stand her ground to strangers, but not me?
Why does the internet want to destroy me?
The biggest crow or the meanest post—why me?

Whenever she stands up for me, a part of me grows.
History doesn’t like when you argue, millions have his back.
Her persuasion is majestic, a little screen can’t stop her.
Millions of posts flutter and swarm me, but silence screams.
I am free.
But, who am I now without this little screen in my hand?