Reality

[CRNDLSM]

Howdy, hope you workshop this one.  There seems to be a lot of needless repetition and rhyme.

Hello, I'm rather new to poetry, and I'd like some feedback on this piece, thanks in advance.

Reality
 
Aren’t we all confined within our own cages,
Forced to wander through the ages. (?)  If we're confined how can we wander much less be forced to wander, if the cage is strictly abstract, at the end you go back to your cage, we're you ever confined? Questioning reality
Strolling ever so serenely,
Through all the grass and crafted scenery?
Through the halls of time
We tumble and stumble, and yet not a single grumble,
Is heard within the chime
Of this ever-familiar rhyme we mumble. Humble as a mumble in the jungle of shots and screams, these are familiar rhymes
 
I’m sick of this constant flow
No highs, no lows, just a simple Joe.this whole stanza I think doesn't add to the piece, filler
This familiar tune we play,
Each and every single day.
Never ending. Serenading.
The same old streets we stroll through each day,
Same greetings, same faces, same goddamned Mondays.
 
I’m sick of being alive
If being alive is what this is
Where is the drive? The strive?
Being alive?I like this stanza, like an interjection 
 
Yet perhaps it’s better this way,
Don’t rekindle this snuffed out flame.
Let someone else be the armored knight,I don't like the sudden introduction of a third person other than the 'we' I've been reading about, excluding one individual this 'some one else'
Riding into glory within the light.
 
Us commoners, what good do we know?don't like commoners, but it does make contrast to the 'knight'
We’re just castaways, relics from an old yesterday.
Those hopes, visions, and dreams we once followed?
Ha! Who would have believed all that mumbo jumbo?
Maybe we’re all just miserable cargo
Doomed to ride this train indefinitely,
For all damned eternity.
 
Leave us be,
To wallow in our own sorrowleast favorite stanza, probly cause of the rhymes
And hope not, for a better tomorrow.
 
And when morning comes, I’ll be back in my cage,
No fire, no light a rather pitiful sight.
You’ll hear the sound of dirty tears falling,dirty tears, cause the face they're sliding down is dirty from the strolling outside through the day?
Flowing through these halls,
Echoing.the echoes are part of reality, will we hear them?

Prolly More critique than you were looking for, hope it helps