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.

  • Happy 27th Mom

    27 years before today, my mom was about ready to give up any faith. My memory held moments I rather keep away. Loud. Lots of yelling, cursing swearing about. Mom always worried, now on her toes scared dad would find out . Mom was tired of the pain she endured every day and she was over being treated like a live in slave. Most days before the rooms became her safe space, mom had to deal with 4 little kids, wild animals as dad would say. My mom would numb herself from the pain, she didn’t understand yet that the very substance she praised was the villain keeping her mind a prisoner causing her body to stay in an unsafe place. She felt she was a victim because her addiction made her think this way. I can almost remember the very day, she walked into a room, took a seat and listened diligently. She came home but it wasn’t the same woman who left earlier, no. This was a warrior who knew she had so much fight for life left. Dad started to see her change and for someone who preferred ownership, he was beside himself, he expressed the betray. Not that long after my mom finally got away. She had been joining circles in these rooms for many days. It was like they were giving her back her life, her light started to brighten and shine. Anywhere she went darkness was sure to hide. She kept her chin up and head held high, even when she didn’t have a dime or place for her babies to reside. My mom stood in lines, putting her ego aside just so her kids could have food, shelter and peace of mind. 27 years later, and that warrior is still on the front lines. She has never backed down, even when the world tried. If anyone deserves a celebration, it’s my mom for giving us a second chance at life. I love you mom, more than any word can describe.

    By Sierra Mazzucca

    #LosAngelesPoet #hope #recover

  • Dear Little big boy

    Someone needs to be honest with you, so here it is. Your company lacks substance and I’m sure you will never have it. You make my blood run cold and not in a good way. You make me feel like you are the hunter and I the prey. You give me the creeps obsessing over me, I ended things, this is a bit stalker-ee, don’t ya think? Rhetorical, don’t answer because then you will manipulate me to stay and chat and I know you know I dislike the thought of that. So you send flowers back to back, they meet my door, then the trash. Please leave me alone this is not cute, it gives me anxiety. I just want to be forever rid of you. Stop showing up at my door and sending me gifts. Stop with the calls, none will be taken. Just get the memo, your position was eliminated. I do not like you NOT 1 BIT, stop stalking me, how many restraining orders do I have to get. It’s odd you say so many good things about yourself, all I see is a little boy who cant take the word no so well. How many ways can I spell it out, you’ve got too many issues I do not want, and I will stay without. You’re the MVP, most vindictive person around. I’m better single on my own, then being manipulated by some little boy who doesn’t understand the word, NO!

    By Sierra Mazzucca

  • She feels familiar

    I saw her sitting on the swing by herself. I noticed there was another swing available, so I took it upon myself and joined her, so she wouldn’t be by herself. I knew what that felt like and it wasn’t nice, so I put myself into her shoes, and to my shock they fit just right. I thought well that’s ,weird I’m bigger in age and height. Then, I noticed her clothes they were familiar from my past, but they fit her just right. She also had a beauty mark on her face, in the same place that mine remained. But I shrugged it off and swung my legs to catch up to her pace. She found me shoulder to shoulder sharing the same smile across my face. Our eyes met and the color and shape were exactly the same. Our swings then slowed down and we both stopped. She looked over at me, paused and very low and softly asked why has it taken you so long? With the pressure of tears building up behind my eyes, fighting them back I gently replied, because it took me awhile to face the truth inside. That at some point I allowed the world to break you and I. I couldn’t protect us then, and shield us from what others did and some still do. That even applies to me and you. Because a long time ago I allowed you to feel alone and made you believe you were not worth anyone’s love not even your own. But I was wrong to make us digest ill lies all because of a fear that I grew, since faith was invisible to the naked eye. And my belief that things could change became a distant dream of mine. But we are so valuable and worthy, we deserve love for every breath of ours is deserving, and I hope you know we are loved, YOU and I. . I stopped and waited for her response but she was silent and just stared back at me. It was in that moment I felt a release. It was the heavy weight I had carried that didn’t belong to her or me. She eventually stood up from her swing, and came closer to me, put one little hand on my shoulder and the other on my heart, she leaned in and whispered, without you we wouldn’t have made it this far. She then walked off into a sunset with red and orange hues, she looked back one last time and said I love you, thank you . I immediately felt this jolt of happiness, she was free and I was finally accepting of inner peace.

    By Sierra Mazzucca

  • Frankenstein

    I’m gonna do it again, put my fears, questions and worries into my pen. Watch the ink release the hold its grip has had me in. Fear has been my main attraction. I never need a ticket as I dictate and delegate all of the action and many transactions. That’s right your eyes and ears seen and heard correct. I am Frankenstein, the inventor of the dread that has had me crippled within my own head. I made this bed. I meticulously formed places for my mistrust, faithless, fear driven, case-less theories, to root and grow. Swallowing me whole, for already forgiven sins, from the box man In confession. Now to redo that section without deception, as deceitful balloons eventually pop from the misconception, that you are free after 10 hail Mary’s and your donated fiscal blessing into the box. I release the pressure I created in my own head. How peaceful it feels, to just let your hearts kettle decompress and express, anything that has been fighting to live within you without loves breath. Hatred was starting to form and take over my head. Faith never left, it just stepped aside and allowed me the opportunity to decide if I was going to continue to turn myself into a monster I despise or into a being full of hope and life. He gave us choice, and only in our time will we be able to give it a voice. Not even a scientist can theorize the truth its invisible except to few. We are our own hope operators, mental surgeons, word makers, feeling scientists and yes confessional takers . The need has always been within, the keys were always there to find. It was the lock that you placed before you let go of fear from your mind, that kept you crippled and discouraged from any attempt to fight for your own life.

    By Sierra Mazzucca

  • Stages

    I pray as you age, that I get to see every stage. Yes, it may be sad to witness the new wrinkles and grays, but to have you throughout the many different changes that await.To be there with you, no matter the newest sign of age. I guess with every new day the only bitter thing I can say is, that we near closer to a place where you will not get to see me go through those same stages of gray. I pray that as I near the end of my time, I am able to look back and remember all the moments we shared all the different stages between you and I. So, I will enjoy you when I don’t, and even more when I do. I’m just so blessed to have a resilient mother in this lifetime, who is as strong and brave like you. My mom,my first stage, the first heartbeat my ears heard play. I love you no matter how far distance says we are. What a beautiful gift to experience life and all it gives from entrance to exit. What a gift to experience time, what a present it is to be born, to live, to laugh, grow old and die.

    By Sierra Mazzucca

  • English Ivy in the mirror

    Hey, would you care to chat? Actually, I think you should take a seat, and listen as a matter of fact.

    Don’t take this too hard but you’re invasive, like English Ivy; smothering.

    You are very ostentatious.

    Seeking any eyes admiration.

    You’re pretentious and that word could be found carved into your tooth’s cavity, by a craigslist dentist.

    Probably how you started to speak your own language.

    Guess it’s expected the Novocain has you singing notes of your testament, in Life’s chair found is your true confessions.

    What has you trembling, feeling like now’s the time to confess your sins?

    The end has always been subjective, but nonetheless expected.

    He forgives , though sadly humans don’t forget, the wrongs onto them that were committed by wickedness.

    Recently I learned that it wasn’t by a stranger who made me hurt, it was but a memory of one of my past characters.

    That cuts.

    So it’s onto getting through overcrowded unreliable thoughts from different versions that were shed, when we changed and evolved on, just a memory in our head.

    Moments of you, from versions of few, where all the characters were played by no one other than you.

    Lead was always within you.

    That is what I just learned.

    That everyone you meet, everyone you’ve hurt, they are just external parts of you existing still trying to gain worth.

    Its an odd truth to observe, but it tickles your thoughts and makes you reconsider, being unkind to anyone as they are just a reflection of you from the past lives that lived within you.

    By Sierra Mazzucca

  • Sessions

    Regret has found me knocking at its door again. Shame answered immediately as if it had been waiting for its old friend. Opening its door where the comfy couch is that I turn my thoughts over in exchange for inner peace and solace. There is a spot molded to my body where I take my seat. This time I have anger and it’s taking over me. It’s like my prefrontal cortex hired another conductor to lead. In my body, challenging my amygdala and triggering my hypothalamus to retreat. Losing its control, leaving me alone with only me, in charge of my big E’s. Now I am more uncomfortable than I was before therapy. And 49 more minutes before I leave is when I start to recognize a hormonal response, where the physical changes start to take over me. I’m a fighter so my prefrontal cortex reminds me and regulates all the Big E’s to manageable little E’s. Making my response to negative thoughts minimal and not self-depleting. STILL, I slip and sometimes forget how easy it is to get sucked back into it; the negative thought flow you became so familiar with. I don’t want to sit with this. Tired of these weekly couch sessions. Just want to be able to control emotions and let go of past transgressions without checking in to my next confession session. So my goal is set, no more emotional ding-dong ditch. I won’t knock on doors where shame will surely answer it. I am releasing regret and guilt daily so that one day I will wake up and be able to take a deep breath without feeling like I am suffocating. Until then I am again, signed in for my 1 pm session.

    By Sierra Mazzucca

  • Age

    Yes, it is unequivocally true, your beauty will fade. Your skin once tight, will start to drape and hang in unexplainable ways. Discoloration will begin to splotch and take place, upon your once evenly toned body and newly lined face. Your vision will get blurrier with every new age. Your hair will thin, and color change. Your wrinkles will deepen with every smile that stays a little too long, forever imprinting its frame. Your memories will escape from any accessible place. It’s a slow death from a life full of moments you meticulously made, but inevitably forget. Your heart’s beat will lose rhythm, and sound slowly. In the end, we often regret because we were in such a hurry not to leave, not to age, not to gray. So focused on a temporary body, which we knew would expire one day. So yes, there will be change taking place. I like to imagine aging means we are that much closer to another energy state. So let it fade. Let the wrinkles and discoloration take place. Remember they are little reminders this body was never a permanent space.

    By Sierra Mazzucca

  • Memento mori

    36, and I’m grateful to be alive. Still in the back of my mind: Memento mori , “Remember that you will die”. So today I will do and not try. I will let go of the illusion that I can control every outcome because that’s the ill man’s delusional idea of how to manipulate time. Detach from the illusion of control. Just understand the future does not exist in this moment. Here and now is all we know. No matter how tightly you hold on, things will find a way to go . If everything was certain and nothing ever changed, life would be a stagnant body of water no Currents to shift its way. What a boring existence for the being’s part to play. We were already dying the day we were formed because time is not afraid. It existed before and will after the day the last human remains. So the celebration of another three hundred and sixty-five days has a feeling of accomplishment for another trip around the sun my skin sack has made. What is future but a mere wish, a hopeful gift , we should all be grateful if we get. I am alive now, but I remember we die, so I won’t waste breath on wishing for endless time. So here’s to 36, finally loving to be alive.

    By Sierra Mazzucca

  • Fear is not reality

    Fear is worry that does not exist, but only in your mind.

    Such an odd coincidence, that I created this sickness with all the pointless worries of mine.

    If you are suffering about something that does not exist in real time, well that is insanity and for most of us that’s a short trip & a long ride.

    Not even realizing we have been self-prescribing pain and sadness because of untrue thoughts derived from a blackness, just madness.

    We always took the regimen of fear straight to the brain, a quick end to any roads led by faith with strength.

    We expected and incorrectly predicted tragedy making ourselves sick when in reality we were our own sickness.

    We were our own creator of a life of travesty.

    Didn’t even stop to analyze myself because fear made me think it was everyone else.

    So I hung up unwanted signs within myself and in large it spelled out: fear will never serve you well.

    So if you find it don’t allow it to stay.

    Just hang a sign that reads: Fear is not welcome to play.

    I have had to stay in many days to protect my mind from whatever lie I was too weak and let inside.

    causing me to lose hours of daylight.

    Tossing at night over things that ultimately only existed in a frazzled state of mind.

    Fear is the unwanted weed grown from the inside, you are the gardener of all new growth.

    So it is your choice to let it grow or eliminate the dark-rooted seed before it multiplies.

    Fear does not exist in reality, but only in your mind.

    By Sierra Mazzucca