He picked at it and picked at it and picked at it and picked at it and picked at it and picked at it and picked at it and picked at it and picked at it and picked at it until all that was left was a special message. A message that read:
SNOMMISDRAHCIR
ESTÁS LEYENDO
Cloudy with a Chance of Seacrest
PoesíaThis is poetry like no other. This is not poetry for the faint of heart.
