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.

  • So, that’s why

    So you needed to break me to make me. You want to reform my soul before you take me. Well then, I surrender because of fate it should be. I am not defeated. They were not empty sufferings. But more Contractions, birth pains.. I was being reborn again. Prepared for the glorious day when I can say I am alive and living with inner grace. Where I truly believe I am an image of him that which he made me. A mirror of his reflection, constantly elevating. Strengthening and awakening deep parts where only his prayers can take me. Places where forgiveness waits for me. My thoughts once oppressed by shadows of misdirect, that I learned recently were not of his fate but they were also not a punishment.. I know he hasn’t forsaken me, he hasn’t let go. Sometimes Love must wound to heal, they say the pain is the lesson which I believe is real. The more scars the deeper the conversations and self-realizations with GOD are. So yes, you need to break before you can be your best and truly Divine. Its grace, and it’s not always smooth sailing as we will find. It’s not the lack of him in your life, but rather a strong presence and reminder he’s always by your side.

    By Sierra Mazzucca

  • RSVP for Loneliness

    I once heard Loneliness is an invitation to become still it is not a punishment. What happens when you realize you are already complete? That you wasted years looking for some missing piece and parts of a false story you were fed from infancy. When all along you were the hero of that fantasy. False, like all those rescue stories read to all the little she’s, where we were told we needed to be saved from the dragon blocking our gentle hearts’ entry from some vicious monster coincidentally. What if those dragons were mere reflections of you, of your inner warrior defending all the fragile parts within you? Realizing no one is coming to slay the dragon that seems to defend you. Finally understanding that was a false fable fed to restrain and constrain you. You now see, that isolation was never an exile but an initiation to be free. Being alone is liberating but people assume it is a weakness with nothing happy. When in fact only in solitude can one find their true self, that our masks have been holding back from ourselves. Most people apply a mask before introducing themselves to the other actors involved in the cast. Never learning being alone is freeing, as you no longer feel the need to impress or put on an act. You don’t need permission to be happy. That sentence slammed against my chest, like a ball to bat. There is no script that can be memorized until you truly believe you are the perfect fit and role for that. All along I was waiting for someone to grant me a pass to some form of happiness I never believed I alone could have. Always trying to get permission from people who are in no position to delegate my existence missions if it be, “solo path”. Especially after learning the facts. I can’t slay a dragon, if she is me, and my inner strength I never thought I had. I don’t need a prince like those fairytales encouraged me to have. I just needed to pet my little dragon, while reassuring her that I now will have her back. Without being alone I wouldn’t have been able to process all of that. So here is to my invitation to loneliness, I hope I get an RSVP back.

    By Sierra Mazzucca

  • Peculiar

    It’s a peculiar thing to stop and think that we are all just chasing some invisible trophy to the end of our earthly human occupancy. Where completion of existence could be looked at as a loss or gain depending on who you’re asking. Racing to a finish line, with said golden cities on the other side, which later we find out doesn’t exist but it allowed us to cope with time. We are programmed from infancy to believe that we are not complete until we have X, Y and Z and then only then will we be happy and free. This is the grand illusion of a destination that creates a perpetual sense that we are always incomplete. It grows a notion that there is always gonna be something missing. We are so focused on the end that the present eludes us and this is the real death , when living while always trying to find something greater than this moment to access. Like the faith we conveniently forget, even after we are woken up day after day and our lungs gifted with breath. We are too blinded by the next step and too self-consumed to accept this is our fate. Running through life like it’s an emergency. Appreciate this time, not the minutes or days that are hopefully ahead or far behind. No rush just letting it flow smoothly in Its own way. No explanations, no justification needed as that is not a bridge but a cage to the deepest parts of your brain. It’s a peculiar thing when you stop and think the only race in my world has been led by me. There might be more to this life than the human eyes can see, but the wonderful thing about true faith, is the trusting in your decision choosing this body to live and participate.

    By Sierra Mazzucca

  • Overcame to feel

    Have you ever felt bombarded by yourself, like you can’t help but keep inundating your brains cell with messages that no longer serve you well. Sadly it’s this path you in the past paved, whose entrance and exit still lead to and from hell. It’s obvious there are parts of you that you have lost within one of those past versions of yourself. Recently I genuinely feel like Jack and Jill, like I’m falling down an endless hill. Passing all the hurdles I previously overcame while climbing up life’s hill. It’s always an emotional roller coaster, when you take a step back and look down at the sharp turns and loops life has had. I’m just supposed to shut up and sit back. Just be still and zip past without evidence of the goals I reached, limits I surpassed. That ride is evident there was nothing decent in those versions of me I played in the past. Still just expecting the next lead, while I understudy me, the main role for the next cast. Which coincidentally is written and directed by yours truly. The amount of non existing acts I often incorrectly predict, should be a tell tale sign of all of it. I am bombarded, but I am also the cause of it. Accountability is the obligation to accept responsibility. I am accountable for the construction and repairs, but will that start the mend of all the old tracks in there? This is where good ol faith needs to be your best friend, even if it’s a challenging mindset to befriend. It takes trials in the past that you overcame, to give you strength and courage in moments of possible future disdain. So thank you for flooding my past paths way. For forcing me to start a new course with more possibilities that outpour positivity within this new brains channel wave.

    By Sierra Mazzucca

  • Who

    Who am I? I don’t know, to be fair. I’ve been many different people in the past. So it’s hard for me to decipher which parts played were actually me and which versions were part of the act. I always try to be myself no matter the situation that I am dealt. Still, it’s challenging when you’ve lost yourself inside one of those passed played versions of yourself. Western medicine seems to push me down further into a familiar hell. At the same time, it’s supposed to be helping me from thinking obsessively or lodging this flesh sack off the freeway overpass thoughtlessly, to make myself feel “well”.

    As the old dialogue still runs through hell. I want to be the best parts of me but it’s unfair as I still feel so far from me. Who am I, is the million-dollar question my reflection has not reflected or responded back to me. This journey of finding me sometimes feels like a lost cause as I have been constantly changing and new versions have replaced me. So who I am today can’t be the same version I was yesterday. I’ll always be on a quest to find myself, as change is the only constant humans nor medication can beat or rebel. Who am I, if not tomorrow’s elevated change of today’s self who yesterday was less aware of this version and part, my character manages to adapt into so well. I am who I am in this moment today, but ask me again tomorrow as that answer may change.

    By Sierra Mazzucca

  • Blank

    I feel blank like an 8 by 11 white page. A canvas waiting to be liberated from a plain purgatory space. It must be the new pills affect taking hold of me. Since my psych prescribed them to me 6 Tuesdays past yesterday. A change I’m told was to be expected by today.. he is right , I think. Well it’s the 12 years of school I believe. I just take the scripts he writes me willingly. Still I can’t feel or think about my insides, not even slightly. I just don’t know where to look for the emotions this RX hides inside me. Because I know they havent left, they are lurking around the bend on a different side than present me. Just holding for me to slip up and forget to take em, aka invisible cages for my emotions the ones that contain them. 1 minute man doc I thought your book said this combo would work, that I would be balanced not experiencing these up and down spurts. Doc,These one minutes sessions, in my opinion are counterproductive they don’t seem to work with my goal.I feel blank like a white canvas with nothing but space.

    By Sierra Mazzucca

  • Not my knight

    I prayed for love. I prayed blindly. I wished on every star that my perfect person would find me. I blew every dandelion reinforcing my prayers, that I will find someone one day, who genuinely loves and cares. I never specified the appearance of the person of dreams. I never thought a shooting star could bring anything worth a damn to me. Then one day someone entered my life in the knick of time. I was about to give up on love of any kind. He made me feel like I was a queen and before that, no one had ever done that, but me. So naturally I was curious . I allowed the treatment to proceed. But all along he had one mission. That was to have all of me. To be the caretaker who caringly controls me. My heart was so desperate I allowed him to help me, with the knowledge that nothing is given without expecting. So typical of the dudes who invest their time into me, then get mad that I can’t give them what they made up about me so I turn into the witch of their sad love story. I’ll never be able to live up to the expectation they set for me. It almost feels like this manifesting has turned on me. But that’s not it at all. It just gives me exactly what I say I need. So I have to be more specific if I want my prayers to come to fruition about love, and all those dandelion wishes. He wasn’t my knight and shining armor and l was not his Mrs.

    By Sierra Mazzucca

  • Monster…

    There is a monster in my bed and I let him in. I supplied the pillow to rest. His quiet wickedness I don’t address. As he fondles my body while I lay still. undressed. I don’t reciprocate his love, or affection. and he won’t allow me to stop it, or reject it. That must be his thrill. Just begging for me to pet it. Like a dog. But, I like dogs. They don’t force me to love them. They just are. He has a darkness beneath the face, beyond the freckles and scars. He stays inside until he thinks you bought the bit that he is a chivalrous guy, but he has secrets to hide. As sweet and willing as he seems to be, he is holding two sharp blades to your carotid artery. In plain sight but you choose not to see. You let the darkness in because a part of you believes you too are a dark fruit fallen from the forbidden tree. Another lying message you allowed your brain to receive. You are more than an object of affection, you are deserving. Sometimes we have to burn it all down to start anew. A cleansing of the medial prefrontal cortex erasing desires previously initiated for a few. I currently have a monster in my bed and I am the one who invited him in.

    By Sierra Mazzucca

  • Grow Faith, not Fear

    Fear a distressed emotion brought on by the belief that something dangerous, likely to cause pain, or a threat will occur. It only gains strength when you feed it faith. Growing into an outrageous ember, igniting every corner of hope it’s flames chase. It’s the unconscious decision to give up and for lack of better words, screw faith. But it’s in those moments we need to lock in, steady our ground, to again mount the horse of life before, untrue lies pull us back down. Using lessons as tools, from past trials that were fear derived. Turning them into hope as our hope is what keeps our faith alive. Some tracks are rocky, not always smooth. If it was just flat, there would be no need for hope or faith within this life for flesh covered fools. It’s the hardships and heartaches that germinate our seeds, for faith, to bloom. I always lean harder into mine, when every other turn I manage to take, leads me to a dead-end, where fear and anger ruminate. It’s in those moments I beg for the spirit of uncertainty to relinquish my lack of faith, replace it with trust that everything, even on our worst days, will be ok just don’t invite fear to play.

    By Sierra Mazzucca

  • We live to die to live

    I’ll admit that sometimes I still get a little depressed since I know everything, I have will one day come to its end. In any second. With any given breath. Which usually begs my question, have I done everything I can to make the time I occupied this skin resort I was lent purposeful or made this borrowed time worth the moments I was gifted to spend breathing, sometimes suffocating. Nevertheless, living to die inevitably with each new lifecycle that has an end. Ponder ponder. Wonder no more. The days I spent were meant to add to Another cycle of passing through the living revolving door. I’ll come back again. With a different mask. In a new lent space. With a restart of time.Trying to live every day. Knowing one day, I’m going to die. While desperately surviving this different but same same life. That will one day again be taken without reason. Damn. It’s a conundrum, isn’t it When you stop and analyze all of it. Like umm wow how refreshing. When life throws me a new ball that I’m forced to catch. After life decided to launch one with its lesson bat. But in one of my past lives, I was a catcher, wasn’t I? So, I learned something, yet I get dealt with these repetitive lives, with this same same but nothing, living greater than pain. With constant reminders I’ll be here again, one day. Sometimes I just can’t help but think can someone, anyone, please press skip, end, don’t repeat. As luck may have it though, my thoughts have changed. So, not today, old way of thinking.I’m trying to see what I can learn now to take with me. I don’t know what happens when this ends. Or if I will end up repeating the same mistakes when I come back, If I come back again. I mean, after all, what would the point be. To return to a new life with the same past thinking. If I keep messing up and not learning anything the next cycle will repeat until I change the same same, different way of whatever I’m doing thoughtlessly. Causing the next life ripples of pain before I even take a seat. Living mindfully as we all live to die to live. Hopefully

    By Sierra Mazzucca