A Raven Called Nevermore

Something's bothering me. Normally writing is easy. Words flow, one after the other forming ideas. Today, this weekend, something doesn't feel right. There's a reason why I'm not able to write. I have no ideas. Actually, there is one idea...

I have a raven above my chamber door. He's that force that doesn't let me write.

Okay, this is getting better. My mind seems to be functioning properly now. Three seconds ago I thought the Raven symbolized the obvious: death, maybe the narrator's. But not necessarily. I mean, yes. the narrator describes him as a prophet of evil, asks him to "leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoke." Its inevitable to make a connection to death. but i feel it's a vague idea. It's not so much about what the raven represents, but how he makes the narrator feel; about the power he has over him. I think that there lies the symbolism.

"But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour."

The narrator is able to sense sincerity in the raven, he firmly believes him.

The environment grows tenser and tenser. "The air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer". The narrator feels surrounded by all these exasperating feelings cause by the raven. We sense fear in him, irritation, denial.

“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

Nevermore. Nevermore. Nevermore. Every time the word is said, the narrator loses power. The black bird becomes big, the narrator small. There's nothing he can do; nothing he can control:

"And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door."