Living in poverty is difficult, and finding a good job seems impossible from the pit I’ve sunk into. I work in a sweatshop & the conditions are terrible, we’re packed into a small building like dead rats. I work so hard for so little money. The heat and dirty air sometimes gets to me, I feel light headed but I don’t dare stop. If my manager walks over here, in his shiny leather shoes that don’t belong on the moldy, crusty ground, he might take away my pay.