Under flickering lights, in stifling air,
Hands stitch seams with precise care.
Machines hum loud, drowning each plea,
Eighteen cents per sweatshirt, their only fee.
Fingers cramp, their joints in pain,
Threading needles through endless strain.
Fourteen hours, the days drag by,
Two breaks for the bathroom, and none for a sigh.
Air thick with fumes, floors packed tight,
No clean water, no end in sight.
Fourteen-year-old girls with dreams so rare,
Supervisors watch with a piercing stare.
The Champion logo, bold and clean,
Masks the struggle behind the scene.
Forty-three dollars a month, a heavy toll,
Their youth exchanged for a swallowed soul.
The sweatshirt we wear, easy to buy,
Costs more than dollars; it steals lives dry.
Let’s not ignore what’s clear to see,
The hidden price of our luxury.
Justice and fairness must lead the way,
To give these workers a brighter day.
For every stitch and every seam,
Let dignity rise from their dream.