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.

  • Request received

    I messed around with fire expecting no burns.

    I played in traffic with my guilt, hoping it gets hit first.

    Only attracted one type of male, now my future needs feel cursed.

    I keep catching them, but keeping them has proven harder and hurts.

    I allowed myself to be a when you need remedy, for a life you hate but still not enough to be with me.

    I changed myself for the better, yet the old version is still the only one you see.

    Continue working on myself.

    While you point fingers at everyone else, because you’re unhappy.

    I read the Bible to get direction.

    You read it then, use it as a form of weapon.

    You think because you kneel and pray, that you’re dismissed from all the sins you made?

    Well that’s your business, and your confessions to make.

    All I am saying is, if something isn’t working, why continue to partake?

    Unless you have not healed, and a punishment is what you feel you deserve to take.

    I just feel bad because the further I elevate the more I see, the damage to your spirit that’s preventing you from setting yourself free.

    I’m no one to tell anyone how to live or be.

    But I can share my own experiences and what that looks like for me.

    I no longer constantly treat my heart like a punching bag. Progress, is the word for that.

    Because eventually one hit, will very well be my hearts last .Life is gonna end one day yes, that is a fact.

    So why do we waste time indulging in things that only steal from future opportunities, that could be had.

    So don’t sit on hells bench, expecting not to one day feel its draft.

    We give the universe requests and its delivers them, just as we ask.

    Sierra Mazzucca

  • Delulu’s Fantasy

    We have a creative imagination, me, myself, and I.

    I prepared for these moments long ago with you, but only in my mind.

    So I only anticipated, how your lips would feel against mine.

    Or how soft your skin would be, and the scent you’d leave on me.

    I wasn’t aware my subconscious would plot, to suffocate my dreams.

    Just to continue its ability, to manipulate me.

    Because it wanted me to be gullible.

    It needed me to achieve The fantasy it created using me.

    and the hope I stashed within the corners of me.

    It does all this so I could have the audacity, to continue to live in my world of make believe.

    While unconsciously messing up my actual reality.

    Silly thought processing, we’ve gone and created a new scene.

    To add to the story of, Delulu’s fantasy.

    Though it’s based off of my feelings.

    My subconscious has a way of, being a little misleading.

    But sometimes it’s informing.

    It allows me to see clearly.

    Where I see hope, you will only see opportunity.

    When I have a dream, you will only have a scheme.

    How I love, you will never need.

    I’m looking for a mutual exchange, when it comes to the meeting of one another’s needs.

    Whether Physically, mentally, emotionally, or spiritually.

    You, can’t just meet one, and not the other three.

    I’m aware of what I want.

    Until then, I won’t continue to let my subconscious captain my reality.

    Especially when it comes to emotions and roles. they were assigned previously.

    Straight from the story of, Delulu’s Fantasy.

    Sierra Mazzucca

  • Are we Alright?

    It’s so loud
    The tears and blood that violently hit the ground.
    Miles away, but felt and heard all around.
    On life’s, not so merry-go-round.
    Fear is the scent of suffering aloud.
    And my inner space isn’t any quieter now.
    I get no breaks.
    Unless I take, a large dose of prescribed sleeping aid.
    Even that is not working great these days.
    Nighttime is breeding ground for thoughts to ruminate
    Time to put them all in the lineup, and begin to interrogate.
    Inside, outside , daytime, nighttime.
    I never feel 100% peace anywhere.
    How does anyone feel alright?
    Or sleep at night?
    Humanity is causing humanity needless pain.
    With more inconsolable suffering.
    Our earth is crying.
    Humans are carelessly dying.
    Most people alive today are not living, they’re barely surviving.
    Whether you live in riches and need for nothing.
    Or in a tent, surrounded by nothing but sand.
    Where there is hope…But not in man.
    The most infertile place is the best womb for faith.
    Fear is but a physiological experience, not a permanent state.
    That doesn’t lessen the blood that is being spilt every day.
    Though it is a reassuring thought, that nothing can ever stay the same.
    Not even the terror, that holds hostage my sleep.
    Or the pain felt when hearing about another careless death, or bombing.
    Humanity, we are loud. And mother earth is crying.
    The creator watches with sadness as he tries to decide, if we are ever gonna be worthy of this gift of life.
    With the state the world is in…
    I ask again, how does anyone feel alright?

    Sierra Mazzucca

  • Curiosity

    I’m not damaged.

    I’m not broken.

    Stop repeating lies and losing focus.

    I’m on a mission to find why.

    I trade hope for closeness, every time.

    Where did I learn this unhealthy habit of mine?

    I should have already recognized by the beginning signs.

    If they are never curious beyond the depths, of my surface line.

    Not intrigued about the hobbies or interests I like.

    They never come into this, looking to build.

    So why do I go in with hope for something to grow, where I know it never will?

    I don’t need more chemistry.

    But some reciprocal curiosity wouldn’t dampen things.

    You are only engaging at the capacity you can.

    I want depth, where you choose to host shallowness.

    You want an unemotional investment that has a high yield savings, for your own self interest.

    Your enjoyment was your intention.

    Pleasant moments with no entanglements.

    I wanted consistency and emotional stability.

    You wanted clarity.

    As to why I couldn’t just enjoy what you were generously offering.

    Which was limited emotional bandwidth, and physical intimacy as bonding.

    I just wanted to know your intentions with me.

    I don’t believe that was an unfair request, I was asking.

    Unfortunately we wanted closeness, but two different kinds as it turns out to be.

    It just so happens that yours, isn’t working for me.

    No one’s fault.

    We are not coming from the same place of need.

    I now acknowledge that if I was damaged, I wouldn’t be aching for meaning.

    Like, if I was broken, there’d be no need for reflecting.

    What I said and requested was necessary for me.

    To preserve space for someone who will accept and reciprocate, the same curiosity for me.

    Sierra Mazzucca

  • Moral Hearse

    They say you get what you deserve.

    But what if you don’t know your own worth?

    I seem to seek out men who only put themselves first.

    I allow my temple to become, yet another emotional hearse.

    I do this all while trying to persuade myself none of it hurts.

    I smile and laugh at all your poise jokes.

    While I push into your blade, that slowly cuts into my throat.

    I am aware this will happen every time.

    Where I allow another man to wrap me away into his web of lies.

    So why do I keep making the same choice?

    Why can’t I fix this broken mind, if I am conscious of this decision of mine?

    I assume it’s because I still haven’t mended certain parts inside.

    I understand that may be a good percentage.

    So why do I keep allowing emotionless men to render my heart defenseless?

    As I walk into the liars den aware, of the damage and dangers within.

    The worst part is they are usually waiting with very alluring large grins.

    As if they anticipated my arrival.

    Such a walking prediction hope is.

    The torture is the depletion of my morals, and soul.

    While they add to their bank of ego.

    They offer poison with no anecdote.

    They aren’t there to be with you, no.

    They have a well to fill.

    It’s such a deep need, even they don’t see.

    Why they collect with no purpose, just gluttony.

    So I must be a target.

    As I’ve been actively working on me and the values I bring.

    That scares a selfish man.

    When a woman is aware of her worth and her needs.

    As she will no longer submit to an empty man, and his well of greed.

    They say you get what you deserve.

    So I hope you are aware of your own worth.

    Sierra Mazzucca

  • Lucid Episodes

    Sometimes, my concept of reality, feels like a lucid dream.

    I’m walking.

    Though it feels like I’m floating, through time unseen.

    Everything is still happening around me.

    And I’m stuck in my mind.

    I can snap myself out of it.

    Just not all of the time.

    I want to see how far I can get.

    While being imprisoned behind my eyes.

    At the same time, it’s a weightless feeling.

    A calm kind of nothing.

    Almost brings a sense of peace to the chaos Inside.

    My subconscious lives for this blank state of mind.

    It’s my spirits break from feeling claustrophobic, in a place where fantasy thrives.

    Recently, I have been staying there a bit longer than I’d normally like.

    I couldn’t understand and I wasn’t sure why.

    Until I focused on what it was that triggered, this reoccurring episode of mine.I

    found, it’s when I feel completely out of control within my life.

    It offers a moment where I mentally separate myself, from this body and mind.

    It’s a pause, with peace for my spirit to find.

    In a chaotic world.

    At least for a short time.

    This occurrence is a curse.

    Just as much as it is a gift.

    There are times where my spirit has trouble deciphering, which is which.

    I feel my conscious mind has more sense than I give it credit or like to admit.

    I assume it too believes, that these spiritual and mental pauses are necessary for a spirits release for peace.

    Sometimes my concept of reality, feels like a lucid dream.

    Wake up, it’s all still happening.

    Sierra Mazzucca

  • C’est la vie

    I took a few steps forward.

    Then I stepped aside.

    I turned around to look back.

    At all the mountains I’ve climbed.

    All the obstacles I overcame.

    Skills I’ve gained.

    All of which helped me survive to date.

    A life. With many characters I’ve played.

    From a very young age.

    In a house built of hate and rage.

    I realized nothing would be easy for me.

    Not in this lifetime.

    Not for any version I was, or will be.

    Which is the reason why.

    For many years any future, I was unable to picture with that mind.

    Not even in my imagination.

    As I believed easy, was no adjective of mine.

    Now the higher I ascend, the more I find.

    Healing isn’t in a pill that can be prescribed.

    Or by unloading pain, in Monday session before 5.

    As nothing will make everything feel alright.

    Even with therapy participation 1x weekly.

    For 365 days plus, consistently.

    I don’t know why I believed that, I could put a timer on healing.

    Reminder, self- work is never ending.

    Part of evolving, is forgiving.

    Coming face to faith.

    With monsters that are waiting to feast on any hope they taste.

    Same ones you shoved into compartments for a latter day.

    And when will that be?

    This body’s aging with haste.

    These mountains are getting harder for my spirit and mind to overtake.

    My white hairs keep coming by the 100s every day.

    They don’t leave me with wisdom, as some would otherwise say.

    Death’s knock is low.

    But it stalks me like prey.

    Eventually it’ll show its unforgiving face.

    When it comes to collect me and the memories I won’t get to make.

    Until then I will step forward and keep in mind

    Another peak may be ahead.

    But another trial I survived

    C’est la vie

    Sierra Mazzucca

  • I need my dad

    I hate your addiction.

    Wish you would listen.

    But it always comes first.

    I pray you’d hate it enough to dismiss and kick it.

    So you can live, maybe feel without altering your mind.

    Which I see is protecting you from your trauma.

    That blasts loud music tirelessly all the time.

    I never understood who you were and why.

    So I never seen you as a broken child, in an adult mind.

    I just seen my dad.

    Now when I look back.

    I see, you never expressed emotions with kind words.

    They were usually volatile and sometimes physically hurt.

    You were supposed to be the man that your child loves first.

    And the best thing you gave us, was up.

    No words.

    That used to hurt.

    You gave up.

    You left us.

    Started Over.

    Cali new.

    Kept us close.

    Yet for years, we seldom seen or heard from you.

    I was supposed to be daddy’s girl.

    I waited in cold places where you told me to.

    Waiting for you to show up.

    You still never do.

    I put you above everyone in this world.

    But you always left me hanging.

    Some, “daddy’s little girl”.

    This is what made me.

    This was the part in my life, that I believed warped and misshaped me.

    I had to find that comfort other ways indeed.

    Thanks to you I grew thick skin.

    You taught me.

    no one is coming.

    No one will save me.

    My First lesson.

    I past unscathed.

    Or so I keep saying.

    I learned to stop waiting.

    I can admit for a long time, I was ashamed to get involved with conversations where fathers were the topic.

    Because that’s one subject, I can’t vividly recall.

    But I can feel and see the damage it has made and caused.

    So my opinion may be a little more jaded is all.

    You never showed up for me as a kid.

    Even now, I sometimes question myself like why do you choose to show up for him?

    Because, You’re my dad?

    But I owe you nothing.

    You taught me everything, without giving me anything.

    If only you could use your intelligence for the good of something.

    I hate your obsession.

    I wish you would listen.

    I need my dad.

    Not his addiction.

    Sierra Mazzucca

  • Lust me or Love me not

    I Wonder why your system doesn’t want our chords twisted.

    I say trust the science.

    Or at least keep faith as a close mistress.

    Remember the system Inside of you will take care of your needs.

    Like the hypothalamus produces lust out of security.

    Its not love, it’s a mental urge to reproduce with me.

    We simply share testosterone and estrogen, you see.

    But its my fantasy.

    So we should be romantically running off of Oxytocin and Dopamine.

    Though, you couldn’t love me.

    You are only focused on two things.

    How to get it and is it worth the time you spend on me.

    Because I don’t make you money.

    You ask to hang out, but do you even enjoy my company?

    Is their profit with interest after we are done… running.

    No need for assigning it a title for nothing.

    Its necessary for evolution, or something. The mating drive in all humans assures reproduction.

    So the race continues producing.

    Little humans capable of mass destruction.

    Oh old internal security and childhood memories.

    How you play a large part.

    When it comes to the attraction between two human beings.

    And the chords of their heart.

    So pay attention.

    Because there is a difference between what lust and love are expecting you to bring.

    Though Is it even Love if it comes down to one thing.

    The physical attraction for the preservation of the human being?

    Your system is protecting you from becoming attached to me.

    I’ll just take it as a compliment.

    Your striatum and amygdala light up When our energies mix.

    so it seems.

    Don’t take my word for it.

    Ask the scientist or neuropsychologist.

    I’m just your reward…

    Well that’s what your brain insists.

    Sierra Mazzucca

  • Dinner used to be

    Anxiety used to paralyze me.

    For many years, I allowed it to set my table and sit head of seat.

    I would have anger prepare the cuisine, with recipes straight from regrets book of suffering.

    Resentment help make the dessert and coffee, both made from sadness; bitter sweet.

    I never could get through a dinner without a toast full of depression and self defeat.

    But after rearranging the seating with grace and care, there is only one chair and I sit there.

    Thanks to self- worth I changed the service and entrees to be prepared.

    I loaded them with joy, peace and love, and plenty to share.

    I now make a toast with hope, to endless meals.

    with happiness as the host.

    Sierra Mazzucca