Dear shadow-children, kept in silent state,
My sympathies must lie with you and not
Your parents, no more victims of your fate
Than you are nothing but a shameful blot
Upon your parents' vaunted family line.
How many, lacking magic, disappeared? -
Were broken in a quest to find a sign
That they were not the aberrations feared?
How many more must simply rot away,
Confined in what is oft termed "sympathy"?
Poor stunted seedlings, kept from light of day,
Deprived of love, of voice, of dignity.
Poor silent children, fettered by their fate;
Dear children, doomed to never act, but wait.