The eyes are the windows to the soul,
So bright and hopeful as a young foal.
Sad learnt helplessness eyes tell a tale,
Along with the eyes that humanity fail.
The spirit and soul is often not seen,
In a world of profit that's cold and mean.
Too many are just there for pleasure and fun,
What happens to them when they cannot run?
Too many eyes see cruelty, horrors and dark,
Left exhausted and struggling in a car park.
Some eyes see a kind soul to rescue from hell,
For some it's too late as it doesn't end well.
Many are see worthless, discarded like trash,
Others labelled naughty and get the lash.
Broken, abandoned, starved and hidden,
All because we cannot be driven or ridden.
Eyes tell the stories if people would look,
It's there to read just like a bound book.
Beyond the cover inside is what matters,
Yet those that can see are not mad as hatters.
They see who we are and know our heart,
Then a magical connection happens that's art.
Kez's eye done in soft pastel by Vicki Jayne Yates. Click here to visit the gallery.