The drums went still at break of day,
No smoke to blame, no blood to hide,
The banners drooped, the swords away,
And fear had nowhere left to ride.
In war, we knew which way to run—
In peace, there’s nowhere left to turn.
The clash was loud, the choice was clear,
Silence whispers what we fear.
Peace is the quiet after screams,
Where truth wakes up from broken dreams.
No enemy to raise a shield—
Just wounds the war refused to heal.
Steel was simple, hate was fast,
Peace asks questions meant to last.
The hands that shook now start to shake,
Not from rage, but from the weight,
Of lives to mend, of vows to make,
Of things destroyed we can’t replace.
Victory fades when fires cease,
And ghosts demand a price for peace.
No orders left, no lines to draw,
Now we must face what we fought for.
Peace is the quiet after screams,
Where truth wakes up from broken dreams.
No enemy to raise a shield—
Just wounds the war refused to heal.
Steel was simple, hate was fast,
Peace asks questions meant to last.
In battle, guilt is shared by all,
In peace, it answers every call.
The dead stay dead, the living choose,
Who they become—and what they lose.
Let war be cursed for what it takes,
But fear the calm it leaves awake.
For when the drums and banners cease,
We learn how terrifying peace can be.
