O - Practically Dead

'Why do you stare?' said I
But had I made a sound?
For no one turned a head
And no one looked around.

The walls in here are bare
Dust is sprinkled lighlty
Cobwebs lodge in corners
Making them unslightly.

The room is very still
The dominant colour grey
Shadows colour dirty floors
Which had been new one day.

Dare I speak again?
Would I hear a voice?
Fourteen eyes did not reply
Shall i cry; or even rejoice?

For if I had an answer
It could have been the wall
It could be from within my head
For not one soul would speak at all.