Jason Ridpath's "Honest" is about someone who uses humour as armour. The speaker admits to hiding behind witty replies so no one will notice the heartbreak underneath. They have given everything they had, and still feel abandoned: "Nobody came for me." Going through the fire only left them burnt and alone, and they wonder whether they somehow deserved it.
The feelings are tangled. The speaker second-guesses everything "up to umpteen" times, and wishes they were guarding a secret, because then there would at least be something to confess. The last lines stretch the sense of strain: they are unravelling slowly, crushed by a wooden beam, while trying not to take it personally. That last phrase is a quiet bit of dark irony, since the pain is obviously personal.
The mood is weary, anxious and raw. Short, blunt lines and clipped rhymes give it the feel of someone half-joking, half-confessing, which is what the title, "Honest," seems to point toward: the moment the jokes stop and the truth comes out.