I wonder what the empty rooms speak,
Do they talk of merry moments,
or some wistful memories?
When the people are gone,
and the walls are all by themselves.
Is it the giggles of happiness,
or the screams of terror they represent?

They say the walls can hear,
I wish they could talk too.
I wish we were reminded of our memories,
that we once made in those rooms.

When a family lived in that building,
the house was called a home.
As soon as that home was abandoned,
in deafening silence the rooms stood.

The place turned empty,
so did the entire ambience.
The place that once felt lively,
now lay deserted amidst complete silence.

The walls that heard our cries of joy,
give evidence of our dark phases too.
The room where we celebrated...