NaPoWriMo 2017 22/30 Free

So-called promises,
are like words in an old book,
that no one will read.
Saying you will never change,
that we’ll always be the same.
People hide from truth,
like the mouse in the attic,
hoping no one sees.
But Autumn will bring the rain,
and nothing stays the same.
I don’t want the past.
I don’t recall who I was.
I just want to live now.
Everybody wants to be,
simply who they’re meant to be.
But this little voice, that’s me
just wants to be closer to free.