The Spinner's Dance

A spinner, a faker,
a picker, a runner—
I am all and none,
slipping through cracks
like sunlight at dawn,
good times spread wide
on a tabletop
where dice roll
and the music never stops.

Let them talk,
let them whisper in shadows,
say I did you wrong—
they don’t see the dance
I weave between stars,
the rhythm that carries me
where the light breaks
and the night begins.

I’m a flicker, a flame,
a breath that escapes—
no chains can bind me,
no rumors tame
the wild beat of a heart
that loves to stray,
a soul made
for games others fear to play.

People talk—they always do,
saying I spin too fast
or fake too true,
but I’ve never been one
to sit and stay,
to bow my head
to what they say.

I’ll keep running,
keep spinning
until the dawn burns red—
a faker, a runner,
living wild, living free,
on the edge of what they want
and who I choose to be.