Justify My Rage, Or A Young Man Dying Angry Poem by David Welch

Tell it to me quickly,
now tell it to me fast,
I'm running out of time,
and these moments never last.
I'm not hallucinating,
I'm not turning this page,
until I find somebody
to justify my rage.

I'm tired of your reasons,
I can't resist the urge,
I long for self-destruction,
my lungs to smoke and burn.
It was just a little detour,
A youthful fool's mistake,
not something bringing cancer
to a man at twenty-eight!

Midnight, red light, skin tight,
and I'm flying
Clean days, no haze, life fades
and I'm mad.
Not broken, not bowed,
but I have no patience,
longing again for what
I must have.

You say to find a middle path,
but you're so full of it!
How can a man walk down a road
that never truly fit?
Never bought all your transcendence,
your talk of love and gods,
either I'm truly missing something,
or it really is a fraud.

I guess I'll never know now,
you doctors say I'm screwed,
you say slowing it all down
is the least that I can do.
So four months is what you give me
before my time to die,
but if that dark train is a-coming
it won't matter what I try!

Midnight, red light, skin tight,
and I'm flying
Clean days, no haze, life fades,
and I'm mad.
Not broken, not bowed,
but I have no patience,
longing again for what
I must have.