Mandatory Compulsion

Morning risen in mourning
Awakened without meaning
Ne'er again, I had thought of
Dreaming for end as enough is enough
Alternatively, despite these strings binding
Twisting my joints to its selfish bluff
Only I, a fool, keep believing
Rudiments of my roots are reasons I can still laugh
Yearning for the moment of myself freeing
Come that moment, though
Ordeals upon ordeals await
Mornings would most probably still be risen in mourning
Part of me already knows
Upholding my soi-disant "fate"
Lo, and behold, as I get low and be holed
Stuck in sins of past, in present routine
Ingrained into me, illusions of grandeur, curse of a kin
Only future I see for me, ill, used, eons of gray to endure, worse or akin
Now tell me, when my story's mold, will it be told or will it stay cold?

Now tell me, should I rest or force myself 'til I fold?
Offer me an answer, I'll cherish it as gold
Merely a puppet, however, so still I'll do as told
Only this time, without feeling tolled
Rhymes and reason of reality won't fulfill, instead would scold
Ending this facade programmed in me called Life, awaiting the bell to be tolled