Heartless Scavenger

I fly into the night, My wings make no sound. I remain out of sight, When the moon is full and round. The snow is hard and cold, As I perch atop a tree. Can you hear my story so old? Come listen, listen to me. I was once a bird of color, Of songs and ballads of Joy, But my spirit was torn asunder, By a deceptive charming ploy. Now the blackest Black, Soaring lonely and craven, Hunting for a naive snack, For I am the heartless Raven