Gremlin

It does feel like a plan,
Doesn’t it, a whiteboard filled
With algorithmic scribbles.

In their middle, that green dot,
Designated enemy,
Mutant within the mutant,

Little devil, cries havoc,
So let slip the dogs of war.
We’ll do this, then we’ll do that.

We’ll call in the outsiders.
We’ll get ourselves organized.
We’ll get to know that devil,

Get to hunt that gremlin down.
Confidence! Gear! Strategy!
Almost exhilarating

The stone cold diagnosis.
Everything’s purposeful now.
Death could have been anywhere

In probability’s clouds,
But now we know it’s calling
From somewhere inside the house.