A Raven's Death: a response

All my days I watch below

Moving from soul to soul

I watch my trailing shadow

Grow with essence I've stole

A poet filled with sorrow

A soldier in the cold

And once Thought begins to slow

Memory takes his toll

A forlorn cackle rises to spite my beak

As my trailing shadow harkens

Man fears me for I guard the Door

And while I do not often speak

My shadow does as he brings the Darkness

A fitting word for one so bleak: Nevermore