Chinese workers, the migrants from the country’s interior, call themselves the generation without a future or the generation without hope. They are young and leave the countryside to seek a better life in the city. But very quickly they become disillusioned by the living hell of the factory, of solitude. It is all hell. Working for Foxconn or any of the other industrial giants leaves them little or nothing. Words dance in their heads. They have a few sheets of paper on which to write them down. Their poems give us raw insight into the life of a Chinese worker.