Sad is Love....

I'm born to be picked out
by those who remember me,
but how when I'm nothing,
I'm named for the memories
and for those that don't even know me,

I'm nothing to someone
who haven't yet discovered me,
and here I am
recovered from the cotton
that was once picked from under me
by my ancestors born into slavery,

OOOOOHHHHHHHH!

I yell out because of the mentality
of those around me, stricken and blind,
treating each other unkind,
I have to witness this,
I have to experience unfaithfulness
again time after time

My Love is Sad because that's
what I feel at the end of giving
and not receiving it.
Which path do I take now?
Do I pack up my things and just...?

There's nothing else left to do
unless I'm doing it by myself
and that is sad when you have love to give,
then again who wants love when

Sad is Love