At the tone

I wonder if you'd be proud of the concentrated mess I've become
I wonder if you look at me the way I do and want to run
If you think that it was better when I was openly destructive
Or would you prefer my suppression, find the facade constructive?

Does it make sense, that I walk into the depths of my mind to find you?
When people tell me not to dwell on your absence or even mind you
I've found that I can't seem to let you go, although I try to
If I said that I was sure of your pride in me , who would I be lying to?

If I negotiate my time to remake all our stories
Or live by your last smile and eternally bask in your glory
I assume that it would shock you how I altered upon your leaving
I'm genuinely sorry, I've been destructive, I am not grieving

You could never even begin to comprehend the way I speak to you in my head
Or lay awake and cry in the place where you'd lay your thoughts to bed
About words left unsaid and my exasperating dread
That's redundant, repetitive, synonymous to monotone
I search and I've selected them and now nowhere else feels like home
I think it painfully obvious that I will remain alone

I can't call you, you can't reach the phone
My world will stay gone, I'll speak at the tone