Every day, with the sun, I rise
Trying to see through smoke-clouded eyes.
Dressed and walking off to my job
Every day I’m there; twelve hours long.
I know ABC, but not much else.
I can’t sign my name by myself.
My home is disgusting, repulsive, afflicted.
Every rat I see makes my stomach feel sickened.
Until this man knocked on the door,
Took my picture, said, soon, I won’t work anymore.
I can go to school and write my name,
And upon my shoulders no longer feel shame.
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