The Spinner, The Faker

A spinner, a faker, a picker, a runner,
rolling through life like a wild-eyed stunner.
Good times flashing on the tabletop,
but whispers rise—will they ever stop?

People talk, saying I’ve done you wrong,
their voices grow louder, their judgments strong.
They don’t see the games that we play,
the highs and lows that come our way.

I’m a picker of moments, a runner at heart,
good times and bad, I play my part.
But do they know the truth behind the scenes?
The secrets we share, the space between?

I spin my stories, fake my smiles,
picking through the mess, running miles.
But for you, I’d lay it all bare—
a wild heart’s confession, if you’d dare.

Let them talk, let them claim they know,
the tales they spin don’t touch our flow.
For in this game, it’s just you and me,
dancing on the edge of what’s meant to be.