The World's Most Grisliest Seance Poem by Shaun Cronick

There's ten souls, ten of us in total,
And only I was damned to survive.
That night of endless hell and horror,
That seance where evil did thrive...

A good old fashioned horror story,
I'll look into from time to time.
An investigator to probe all fakes,
Then reveal to the world their crime.

It's the many mediums of which I speak of,
Conning gullible people yearning for lost loved ones.
People who will gladly pay a pretty penny,
To talk to husbands wives daughters and sons.

I arrive at Madame Zandra's gothic mansion,
Whose vast reputation is too good to be true.
I introduce myself and sit with eight others,
At a round table her act I will see through...



To be slowly concluded