The mournful creaks as he shifts in his chair Have always produced ripples in the air: Endless seepage from a quaint, mental lair. Listen, if you will, and you'll hear a song; Incremental lament transcending pain. Fear not the scarecrow guarding his domain, Else deception takes growth where none belongs Overcome the silence, but 'ware the shell For it protects a proverbial hell And notice the absence of fleeting salt! Clamoring tones disrupt the evidence Laying underneath defensive pretense, Emotional forensics may commence Rigorous research void of any sense, Killing the last remnant of his defense.