A found poem using text from Sherman Alexie's short story "Indian Education"

They pushed me and buried me.
I couldn't breathe,
I'd never breathe again.
I was sent falling again.
The warrior in me roared to life,
He looked like he was wearing war paint.
It's a good day to die, it's a good day to die.
Eagle-armed with books in each hand,
Red-headed and so ugly.
Gravity can be painful

Censorship, Freedom of expression,
Sick Indian Taking a Piss in My Backyard.
Yes, I am. I am Indian. Indian, I am.
Waited for the punishment to end,
And I'm still waiting.
My father drank a gallon of vodka.
Doctor Victor to the emergency room please.
I missed my first shot.
He called him a squaman, a pussy, and a punk.
I could hear nervous whispers of anorexia and bulimia,
I could hear the white girl's forced vomiting.
There is more than one way to starve.
"I know Indian kids start drinking real young."
Dark skin doesn't make two men brothers.

We look in the mirror
And see the history of the tribe in our eyes,
Taste the failure in the tap water,
And shake with old tears.
We understand completely.
Everything looks like a noose if you stare at it long enough.
Indians lose again.

--Salena "Mahina" Nicole Johnson