A poem dedicated to darker times

I would tear myself to pieces
Saying
-Im not worth this..
-Im not good enough for that...
I ripped myself
Until slowly but surely
My existence started to vanish.

Then I stopped,
Living and existing.
I was just
There.
Occupying space.

Then I stopped.
And gathered myself.
And bought myself a bottle of glue.
And began to put myself together.

Its a slow process.
And all the pieces might not be where the should be.
But its coming together.
Maybe I'll look like a Picasso in the end,
But I'll be solid.