I had a room with walls....

I had a room with walls. Walls made of dream, pain and plaster. The walls used to whisper to the only window in the room and I, for the longest time accused them of trading my dreams. 

By time, the plaster started to wear off, exposing the dream & pain. The newly flaky walls shut the window & started to soak in pain. Again, I blamed them for staining my dreams.

Now, the pain has dried off, leaving the carcass of a wall. The old falling walls have started whispering again, but the window isn't there to listen to anymore. Curious, I lend an ear for old days sake — So what had become of my dreams?

The room with walls, the walls made of dream, pain and plaster whispered back —

We had many memories to make. Few stories to tell. A life to grow.