I'm writing, shook deeply. Our last talk was less than pleasant. I stare into the sun trying to forget your words. But I cannot contend with the weight of what I've heard. You shake what I believe. The things you taught to me. What should I believe? You keep calm, at least try to. You should know that you're not in charge here. You're staring at your son spitting up useless words. I will not pretend to agree with what I've heard. You shake what I believe. The things you taught to me. But I guess that's what I need. To know what I believe