Sierra Mazzucca's Poetry site

Oh feeling of regret, why have you chosen a seat for tea on my chest?
You seem to make yourself comfortable with each day I lose rest.
Everything is temporary, even the hours I pray I get.
The dreams I wish I had set.
I said I want, but am I truly willing to take the necessary steps?
I say I need, but what do I mean by I or me?
In comparison to the world I am just a nobody.
Just a spirit in a body.
Who feels unseen underneath my skin seams, by everybody.
Beauty externally is fading, so they keep saying.
Just another flesh sack rotting.
Feelings of low self esteem start coursing through every corner of my body.
Love isn’t lost, its always known where to find me.
I was always on a mission trying to become unstuck, from the negative thoughts that tell me my time is up.
I have to un-define and rewrite this narrative, riddled with lies and mistrust.
Behind my eyes the truth was caged up.
There I knew I deserved love.
Still, there was this fiction story I kept adding to.
In hopes it would become true.
I made myself too broken to be someone’s whole.
Who would’ve knew.
And, it took time and dedication to create this false belief that I am some sort of backwards damsel in distress.
Who is never stuck or in need.
It was me that set the scenes, and wrote the lines I’d then repeat.
I placed myself alone in a position where I felt I had to be my everything.
No prince charming would come and save this “used to be”.
Pushed away from everybody, as a measure of precautionary.
I want perfection and that’s an impossibility.
An imagination stuck at a Mad hatter tea party.
Always invited.
No such thing as perfection amongst the living beings.
I am alone , because loving me doesn’t come easily for the human breed.
I create false mental imagery.
I make the table for every Tea Party.
All I need is to change the narrative, I keep editing .
Chaos takes over when you let your feelings run things.
So yeah regret you may have a seat at my creative table, currently.
But this story was written before lies tried to suffocate who I am supposed to be.
And I can take back my control over the things I say and thoughts I believed.
Even if I try to convince myself I have nobody, woe is me in fluent victim-ease.
My table is set, but no one but the lies are coming.
The only thing I can do, is change how I respond accordingly.
Stop drinking vials of words that shrink me.
Yes, I may be invited to more Debby downer feeling tea parties, but I have a choice if I want to RSVP.
I have the power to say No, I will not be attending.
I will stay where my feet are, in reality.
Not making up stories that cause me to shrink within an idea of how I am supposed to be.
Can’t regret what you don’t need.
If love was supposed to be an attendee, then life will send an invitation.
But for now, it’s still pending.