End Of An Age Poem by Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal

It does not come
Till end to welcome
The true verdict
With facts

Whole of life went away
To find the solution in any way
It was mere illusion
With lots of confusion

Those were the days
When judgment was unique in its own way
The innocent was never troubled
Now the justice is totally misled

Judgment is sold in return
For events to turn
In disfavor
With apparent honor

We have lost honor and morale
As it is openly on sale
Rich wins the race
The poor loses in any case

The case is dragged on
For years to be never won
When eyes refuses to acknowledge
It is almost end of an age