Sweatshop Sumei Dead
She was only three years old
When she was sold, forced to
Enter a world of slavery,
Amongst other children laboring,
To glue on buttons or “flair,” to
Sew pockets on shirts she’ll never wear, or
Hats she’ll never own, a clothing drone - for them,
Orders of greedy Americans, who
Pay pennies for her hands.
Sumei liked to feel the cloth move
Under her fingers, the smooth
Material against her face, to
Envision a world of beauty in lace,
Instead of her dirty working space.
Dreams of another life, of somehow
Escaping slowly trickled away, cowed by
Angry men, for quotas she couldn’t meet. So beat
Dead, age thirteen.
Received 1st place in "Something Worth Fighting For" contest
Copyright © Black Eyed Susan | Year Posted 2012
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