1 crow perched upon a stone, Whispers, “He does not walk alone.”

2 crows circle overhead, Marking where the path turns red.

3 crows tapping on the gate, Warning, “Child, it’s getting late.”

4 crows gather in the rain, Croaking tales of loss and pain.

5 crows perched in crooked rows, Watching where the cold wind blows.

6 crows chanting low and deep, Guarding secrets shadows keep.

7 crows rise from the dust, Murmuring, “Follow him you must.”

8 crows claw the chapel door, For they have seen this all before.

9 crows bow their heads in dread, For he walks where souls have fled.

10 crows hush the forest bare, Sensing that the Hooded One is near.

11 crows scatter from the trees, Fleeing from a fate they see.

12 crows cry a final plea— “Turn back now, let the dead be.”

13 crows fall silent, still… As the tall hooded figure climbs the hill,

A raven perched upon his arm— The Harbinger of death and harm.