Cyhyraeth

Our roots are torn and scorched Dead leaves rotting on salted ground Nothing grows yet here we stand Ghosts born from this land And we resist As hard as you may strike, we stand our ground Our heritage We stand our ground What was bestowed upon us We shall preserve Our heritage We stand our ground What was bestowed upon us You cannot take Names carved in stones many nights ago Weathered and withered, worn by your half-truths Shattered in the grass, like seeds sawn anew Ghosts born from pride Nothing will make us yield Our heritage We stand our ground What was bestowed upon us We shall preserve Our heritage We stand our ground What was bestowed upon us You cannot take

Submitted by Sexy Gargoyle — Aug 14, 2026