Unsung

Once upon a time

When she was young

There was a Bard

Who had sung

Of untold past miseries

And present probable merries

The Bard professed

That she was his muse

And he also felt

Her capability to amuse

Cannot be replicated

But the enchantment gradually depleted

The hailed Muse

Now only faced abuse

He had turned indifferent for reasons not so known

And she was thrown into a dungeon utterly unknown 

'Bard' was probably a guise

Or was the Muse not so wise and filled with vice?