Outflow

With my last breath I wouldn't say goodbye.
With my last words I wouldn't say don't cry.
In my final moments I would simply smile and believe.
In what you ask? Why in the mere fact I had a good life.
We thirst for water like we live in the desert, floating like the feather I'm still spiraling down.
How I feel like a clown, constantly writing my thoughts letting them ripple out of me.
Why can't I stay complacent like the others? Why can't I be?
I have a lifetime to understand and by the last moment the thought will be at hand.