In the Hands of the Judges

Try as they might for a short evening of work,

Each possessed an equally sharp iron blade,

Tossing aside game plans and going berserk.

If left to judges half your pay could be tossed,

The little you earn can’t afford to be lost.

Pleasure turns to envy when the scorecards are read;

One dream continues on, the other feels dread.

Prompted from Rispetto Poetry Prompt Challenge at:

Prompted from Three Things Challenge at:

Prompted from Your Daily Word Prompt at:

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