Confusion

Red is the color of my bleeding heart.Blue the color of my wounded skin.If I confront, do I make a new start?And get to a place where I begin again? A place away from the memories,A place unencumbered by shame.A place where I can see me for me.And begin to have peace with my name. I long for such a place to exist.For my nerves to have a reprieve,And my soul must no longer resist,Where my inner child can finally grieve. Such a place is neither here nor there,I have searched and searched and know,That no matter how much I bareThe truth must be in my very soul.