Sierra Mazzucca's Poetry site
A collection of poems
Category: Posts
-
I might lose you here. But who are you anyways? I want ME to be OK. Like actually. Not like that fake it to you make it poster in therapy. You know next to the one of a cat dangling on a branch saying, “hang in there”, ironically. I want to be happy like physically,…
-
Hi, if I could give you some advice, be kinder to yourself and slowdown in life. This is not a race. I can surely promise you rushing doesn’t mean you win a medal or first place. Even with you stressing, it’s all going to take just as long as it wants to take. So enjoy,…
-
I hadn’t thought about you in some time because I tried so hard to evict you from my mind. I worked on trying to lend others my time. Instead of trying different ways to rewind our line. I just don’t want us to go back in time. So down memory lane alone, am I. I…
-
Sometimes, not all the time, I wish I could’ve loved you and that it would have been enough for me to stay around to lift you up. I know everyone deserves that support, it just couldn’t be that way for us. Probably because all I ever seen when I looked at you was a past…
-
Meaningful patterns of significance and circumstances, that’s what life is made up of. No happen chances. The universe wants to talk to you. We have been so intent on looking for coincidences that we almost always lose the ability to see or hear what it is telling us to do. All the energy we use…
-
I drift off sometimes and lose track of time. Where I misplace seconds and minutes that turn into hours of separation from my consciousness, and I. I would wonder what the cause of this was. So I mentioned it to Mr. M., and he said it’s the separation from union, known as Disassociation. That’s where…
-
She’s easy on the eyes. Funny most of the time. She isn’t a mess ,and is comforting when you don’t feel your best. She answers your calls and responds to your texts. even if they come in after she is fast asleep in bed. Because your number bypasses the DND mode she has set. Yet…
-
My higher power makes magic, right in front of me out of what’s inside of me. As I am made in his image. Sometimes I am too self absorbed to see or believe. I question every good thing, with, are you sure this is for me? I am sincerely wondering if he’s finally tired of…
-
I’ve heard finding your own individuality means you have to die while living. You have to write off the very existence of who you claimed to be. Transformation isn’t just getting something new, it’s losing everything old that you were told to believe. Your good ol ego will fight to stay whole. Knowing its existence…
Sierra Mazzucca's Poetry site 