Torrents of thoughts splash through my mind,
vacuous spaces left behind.
Trying my best to decipher what's real;
mood surfing waves to decide how I feel.

Is it inside my head,
or outside of your grasp?
Retold in our future,
or remains in the past?

Life's a theater production,
each of us members of the cast.
If everything goes as it should;
after the final curtain falls,
will we feel satisfied at last?