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The Carletonian

The Carletonian

The Carletonian

Friday Poetry: Lucy

<m in willis, I
thought I was all alone. I
look up in the darkness
There she was no hair no
skin, just pieces of her
bones. Her name is
lucy, she is old so old,
she is so old she is
But lucy can’t tell us her
story? Because.
She is 3.18 million

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