Tired of reality, its delusions,
The Poetess thought, 'How incredible
A mind's mechanisms and inventions
In perceiving life. To make legible
Internal feelings, thoughts, intuitions, fears
Which may be right or wrong. Insanity
Grips like a golden eagle hawk so fierce,
Flying heights surpassed by one's vanity.'
Who will determine what is true or false?
If I retell some dreams and fantasies,
Who believes? A hawk soars to mountains, falls
To canyons and ravines, glides over seas...
'I have built a nest of hairs full of lies -
Black and white reality, fiction flies...'

Imelda Ortega Suzara

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-poetess-lies-2/