There's no calm to this storm.

Not unless being numb is calm.

I lay with a shield, numb while the storm debris dance about me.

There's no fear, for I've got nothing to lose.

The storm is as common as my unsteady breath.

But I'm numb, lost inside my surrender.

It's in my abandoned hope, where I find calm to the storm.

I know not if this is my armor for battle, or my white flag and shovel.