Jury-Rigged

My heart doesn’t beat like yours any more It’s held together with duct tape and string Balloons pump my blood and gears turn the beat Paper clips hold everything in place I’ve noticed no one notices Though I’m patched and stitched in places And the seams stretch and pull and tear They still feel open half the time You see, I still work just fine My limbs, they move, my mind, it thinks Yes function over form, I still work just fine Though the buzzing noise in a bit odd And the paper clips often bend and break Many pieces ought to be replaced But I just can’t afford it now Good hearts cost much more than what I make And like I said, it works just fine Most of the time, when the bits don’t break