Hi, I’m Sierra Mazzucca. I want to welcome to my little corner of the internet—where words find their way through the heart’s tangled paths. This blog is home to poetry born from the quiet and loud moments of life. I write to give shape to what we often struggle to say—grief, love, healing, hope, faith, and the simple weight of everyday experience. Whether you’re navigating mental health challenges, processing loss, celebrating love, or searching for something deeper, I hope my words meet you where you are. Each poem is a reflection, a release, a reminder that you’re not alone. Thank you for being here.

  • Positive MC

    Positive energy and inner peace, are what my life bank will forever run off of and need. Still sometimes I let that negative little critic speak. Yes, that soul sucker is lurking somewhere inside me. Only difference is now, I utilize the tools I keep, to cancel the noise it blurts out from me. But every now and then I give it a mic and platform, while I steady my pen waiting for it to spit another diss track about me again. Before I would listen, attentively. Just hanging onto every word and messed up thing it could find and say about me. Feeling weak, I remained mute, only allowing negativity to speak. Where it burned bridges, stole relationships and terrorized people I love. All to decimate possibilities of me feeling worthy to be seen and heard by anyone. Yes, I was silent, but not helpless. And little did it know I was gripping hope only to allow my faith time to reload. I got some metaphorical weapons of my own to form against it, and finally shut it up so it has no ability to grow. I gained more knowledge on how to tend to the exact parts of me that needed to feel seen. Because I forced them into a dark place where I claimed they were no part of me. That was not right of me. There is no wrong in me. I just have to change this stinking thinking before it drains and deplets the parts I keep peace and positivity. Not perfect, so the steps for each weapon, I often repeat. Yeah he has the mic, but I am the Posive MC.

    Sierra Mazzucca

    #LaPoet #Poetry #motivating #positive

  • Peace within

    I’m more aware of catching myself when I start to spin these days. More so than I used to be, before I started self-healing through therapy and taking accountability. Now, I don’t follow shadows to dark places willingly. I stay away from holes where evil is surely waiting for me. Light is my shield, and faith my cape. No weapon shall be formed against me is the energy today. Being human and flawed sometimes feels daunting for just a spec of existence like me. Yet. I can’t escape it. It’s like a dark pit, my thoughts love to play in. The what if game , and If only phrases. Like if only I could be mentally content, instead of feeling like a psychiatric patient on the lamb again. I take the western potion doses they say, to “stay regulated”, because you know that chemical imbalance they found is a bit resilient to the scripts that they give out. My sleep is more than interrupted now. And then did you know statistics read that depression is not completely hereditary, but epigenetic is a big part of it somehow. Which means if a child is exposed to violence and pain night after night, fear undoubtedly will crawl into their mind, and find dark corners to wait and hide. Creating a monster called depression who slowly eats you alive as it silently devours and festers all your bright inside. But If I can grow it in the dark, then I can also expose it to lignt . Which means there is hope for healing, even in places where darkness waits and lies.

    By Sierra Mazzucca

    #LaPoet #Poetry #inspiring

  • Just human

    I am so human. The more healing I do, the more I realize, at some point I made myself believe I was my own GOD. That I was the one controlling things on the outside as well as on the inside of me. That belief was the fall that revived me. I keep trying to play my own GOD as if he hasn’t been single handedly, carrying me. Specifically when I feel utterly alone, and I look down and only one pair of footprints shows. Learning they were never mine, really takes a thought-provoking toll and encourages me to see it from the real angle in which he always intended it to be shown. I can rehearse someone else’s part endlessly, but it still doesn’t make it the role that was meant for me . So it’s not mine to oversee. I am human, and sometimes I believe I am almighty. Now I see, that must be when my higher power is working overtime inside of me. Giving me a bit of righteous intervening. Time goes by so fast we can’t even see what’s being done, but so much is happening. I feel like every time I let go, I never lose control. He always gives me extra rope and the freedom to choose, in case a day comes when I choose to walk alone. He never leaves my life though, no. He simply lifts and carries me until I can again stand on my own.

    By Sierra Mazzucca

    #LosAngelesPoet

  • What Following?

    By Sierra Mazzucca

    #LosAngelesPoet

  • Hi there Post

    Sierra here! I just wanted to say hi and also share a little bit about my writing process. It is not always the same exact way every time. However it could start from a simple word I heard, or a moment where a conversation I had with someone brings up an old memory and reintroduces feelings I once pushed away. Or just a daily life challenge I am experiencing in real time. Even if I only start a piece, I still consider it a spiritual win. Writing for me is like an internal fan. I should never shut off. It circulates feelings constantly allowing me to write process share circulate, and on to the next feeling. I hope everyone finds their own kind of internal fan, to help things keep moving before you become emotionally jammed.

    Thank you for being unapologetically you!

    #poetry #writing #feelings #release #motivating #writing tip

  • Love, Earth Mommy

    Sometimes I wonder what you would look like. I can get lost in daydreams, as if I were fast asleep at night. I think about how you would have smelled, and felt. How tiny your hands and feet would have been and how cute your diapers would have fit. If only if only I wasn’t a kid pregnant. I think about why I didn’t think twice. I hate that I stole your life with just a signature and 1 thousand and five, measly dollars to remove any ability for you to survive inside. I know I will forever blame myself for not giving your lungs a chance to express a cry. I treated your life like it had no heart, and I had no damn right. I should have gave you a chance. I should have gave you your life . I was a broken kid with no home, I didn’t want to torture another innocent soul. I had nothing to give you that was right. I thought I was saving your light. That is no excuse, but I felt it was about time and this apology is long overdue. I tried to push this down far enough out of reach, but the guilt it plates me and tries to constantly devour me. I know this doesn’t save me and I don’t want to be. Though, I just felt it time, you heard from earth mommy. You matter and always did, I am sorry it took so long for you to hear that from me. Love , Earth mommy

    By Sierra Mazzucca

    Los Angeles Poet

    #Loss #poetry #love #forgiveness

  • Hey, I’m still working here

    Still working on my processing program to make some new paths. Though, I have to be honest today I feel angry and sad. I want to burn every way my feelings can travel down, right to the parts that turn them into actions, from those feeling clowns. I never said the wellness journey was all butterflies and bubbles. It’s definitely not all sunny days with no troubles. No, the work is endless and forever pulling doubles. Daily I am learning new tools for my emotional construction workers to use. Whereas before they just sealed up any parts that seemed weak and too broken to use. The out of sight and out of mind philosophy catches up, one brick at a time. I promise you as I am currently cleaning up the large piles, they left me behind. Bricks made from undealt trauma, anger, sadness, worry, and doubt. All of which I was shown to just ignore and cast out. Taught I don’t have to face it, just pretend to feel alright. So I did, until I needed to process the darkness into light. I was reminded why I chose for so long not to face that side. It was full of everything I was taught to hate about myself and hide. I’m not broken and damaged, disregarded or used. I was a child who was taught by watching adults: how to act, react and how and when emotions are to be used. I will say I’m getting better at using the “I” statements , more than the youse. I understand now that healing daily is what I need to choose to do. Otherwise I will get stuck being a victim following old damaging rules. Though I am still human and emotions have roles. Today I was angry and sad but now I acknowledge those feelings instead of holding on, I feel them and allow them to pass. Progress on the endless journey for wellness is never going to be an easy path, but it will support a life worth living unlike the weight you once carried from someone else’s past.

    By Sierra Mazzucca

    Los Angeles Poet

    #progress #self-love #poetry #inspiration

  • A little mad, still I LOVE YOU

    I just realized I’m still kind of mad. I should have yelled at you from the top of my lungs, HOW THE *bleep* COULD YOU DO THAT?! I guess now I can scream it because you died. So how dare you linger in my head trying to tell me what’s right. You died you can’t say anything. You didn’t get a new number, move to another state, change your name legally, nope those would have been too easy to replace. Instead, you died. You crashed, you burned, forever suffocating your light. It will forever haunt my insides. But leave it up to you to go out with a surprise. Then we cremated what you left us with. Now marble is what your ashes are inside. So respectfully, your opinion well I am on the fence about hearing it and I am sure you know why. I’m pissed. I said it. You wrote me off, like I was some useless investment. Yeah, I know you thought it was better without your past. But never once did you consider the future consequences we all now get to sit with and have. I’m sorry, that’s selfish. I am a little mad. I forgive myself for not being there for you when I could have, I miss you more than I ever thought I would have. I HATE GRIEF!! It sometimes feels like I am the hostage and it the peace thief. I needed to get that out. I still and will forever love you, even though you hurt me more than anyone will ever know how.

    By Sierra Mazzucca

    Los Angeles Poet

    #healing #grief #loss #poetry

  • 3 Phases after Hi

    So there are 3 phases when falling in love.Though I wouldn’t know as I usually jet past the first two of em. But really they come out of nowhere when I’ve just settled down, that part of my body that was hopelessly looking around. That high is addicting, overtaking, and why I’m mentally gone off on some fantasy right now. Currently, I’m lacking brain chemicals and your presence releases Dopamine through my chemical dispenser somehow. Don’t worry, I sealed it off to prevent further leaks. I literally ran past Noradrenaline who would have normally given me a sign like sweaty palms or butterflies. You know, to send a signal that I may like you a little more than I originally fantasized. Though appears she’s running low on what she can currently provide me tonight. You didn’t ask but it felt kind of nice after you hugged me, Oxytocin sent a shiver up my spine. It went straight to my heart, where Vasopressin was motivating and praying for a connecting line. I am assuming so this phase can last forever between your body and mine, or even in my mind. But I guess we can start with our names, and a handshake, hi. As I usually rush into things rather quickly. So slow pace before Serotonin steps aside. Letting Cortisone work out the stress from excitement, Norepinephrine made inside. Making way for Oxytocin and Vasopressin to bond this connection between you and I.

    By Sierra Mazzucca

    Los Angeles Poet

    #healing #inspiration #poetry

  • Generational Identity Crisis

    When I stop and try to understand who I am or how this version came to be, I find myself going back and it hits me. I’ve only ever known who I was because of things I was taught and names I picked up. I never thought to second guess the life my parents said they blessed me with. The characteristic traits they gave to me as their individual gifts. I didn’t think it all that bad when dad threw mom around like he had, just before our breakfast, then class. It was branded into me that was some kind of normalcy, in other families. It wasn’t, and I was too young to do anything. I was told what to do, how to act and inevitably, who to be. I was never given any other choice. I was told to lower my standards, before I even knew they were set for me. I didn’t learn until now that I have a voice which can actually project from me. Yet, still sometimes I revert back to her and forget these things. Now I can give that little girl some space because as it happens to be, she grew up and never grew out of feeling alone, out of control, small and weak. She didn’t believe someone from where she came from was worthy of any good or positive opportunities, until she woke up, in her early 30s. That’s when she started listening to the parts of her that never stopped hurting. She gave them a chance to finally be tended to and seen. No longer stuffed away in a box labeled: DO NOT OPEN ME. These days she’s working on a new blueprint for her own identity. Without infecting it with the old and outdated programming. So who was I and who was this me but a version of an ego forced upon me. Now, that box is almost empty , it has been a long time coming. I took the parts out that I was told were rotten and I’d be better without. But my heart was never a piece of produce, or trash to toss aside, and count out. My presence wasn’t a burden, and my life with me is not better without. Mom didn’t deserve the pain she unknowingly kept, and gave out. She was never told that she could be someone more than the old records message in her head, which constantly played aloud. Eventually forcing any part of an identity to retreat, causing her to be defined by the man who kept her voiceless and lonely. Dad also knew no better as he was brought up the same way. He was showed the role of who he was to play, and so the generational identity crisis game was put on replay. Egos were made identities removed, which were all based off of someone else’s lack of ability to choose what will separate him/her from the rest of the fools.

    By Sierra Mazzucca

    Los Angeles Poet

    #healing #breakingchains #poetry