A Hanging Star

It's hanging by the last thread, waiting,
We have done so much damage to its five wings.
It is no longer bright, or shinning,
The thing we cherish most, is falling,

Its light flickers off and on,
As we still try and try to hold on.
All five corners are rusted brown,
And our fight is falling down.

It doesn't move or sway, just still and eager,
Just like us, still holding on by a finger.
Its about to fall from the sky,
Our love for each other is still so high.

Our star of hope is holding on by a string,
Everything we do leads to fighting.
Our star of hope is yet to fall,
And so will our love, once it hears the call.