I have blazed a path of imperfection

I raced towards my flaws from every direction

I had no brakes and didn't need them

My imperfections were a sense of freedom

Now I'm the turtle and no longer the hare

I'm slower-
I'm methodical-
I have so much to share

to bare

Last July was ironically the 'perfect' storm for this man

My heart ...
it stopped beating,
Yep...
3 times I had left this land

Dead they pronounced me not once but
yes thrice

I was all out of luck,
no more rolls of the dice

My heart was not ready to give up and quit

Perfectly imperfect but here I still sit

Not sure for how long with the storm clouds in view

Hey thunder-
hey lightning-
I'm no longer afraid of either one of you

I've already lived through the deadliest of storms you see

I've already been dead not only one time...
but three

The Buffalo General morgue was not ready for me

No tag on my toe.....
Nope-
For death I was not ready