did i write this?

"hello, who are you?" these are the questions i ask myself in the mirror. like a wheel turning- pick an animal, a sign, a color, and a stone to cast into fate. today it's the cat, the lion, pink and rose quartz. the dog, the twins, red and onyx. the bat, the ram, red and ruby- wait, rats. this isn't a metaphor, i'm just a killer! i'm a killer! i watched his blood drain down the sink, i watched him cry out in pain and i felt nothing- or was i him, or were they me? was i the blood or the gash or the brains i so craved? or was i the drain with its thousand holes, devouring the essence of his tiny life, eating him alive? was i murder or the weapon? make me a weapon. it hurts too much, the pain i bear. it was too much for my tiny body. the fragments of my skull remain fractured, broken into shards of bone that could cut if you come too close- but please don't go, either, or the lion will eat me whole.