completion in poetry

I’ll be whole when I’m dead
which sounds depressing but
actually its goddamn joyous
as long as I am imperfect
flawed and uncompleted
I can grow and learn
I can evolve and change
perfection is a kind of
death and I am nowhere
near there yet I hope
I’ll be perfect when I’m dead
but until that point I am a
better kind of imperfect yet
as long as I can keep changing
I can stay alive and so far
I like being alike
I’ll keep it for as
long as I can thanks
stagnation is the real death
dying is just running out of life
so much better than going static
losing touch or becoming the bad guy
here I am, I’ll be whole when I’m dead
happily flexibly imperfect and
still looking to be something more