The house we drove to on a dare
Was smoking from outside.
The walls forbade our entrance,
But within, an infant cried.

Searching for the howling babe,
We overturned his home--
At least, that's what it once had been
Before the flames had grown.

We found a pool of furniture,
The burnt upholstery maimed,
And then a table filled up
By a family aflame.

We found the infant's parents there,
His older siblings, too.
Quite calm, his sister looked to us:
"I'll burn the both of you."