The mirror

It stands alone in the dark room,
Unseen and used like a birds old nest.
Waiting for an end that is never to come.
It always speaks the truth,
Even at the age that it is in,
It reflects and shines if,
some one admits to its age.
an old mirror it is,
Staring through the dark room,
It confirms to the light,
Picture it shows of what is and will never be,
unlike a photograph that captures age,
But grows old with you.
Yes it is the mirror,
And it is not scared,
For even if shattered into thousand pieces,
It will still reflect,
And stare back in defiance.
You keep it in a dark room,
So that none can see,
But how can you hide it forever,
For the aging image will someday be seen.