The fish that swam upside-down

There was once a fish in my grandma's tank, 

who always swam upside-down; 

For a while, if I'm completely frank, 

I thought he was trying to be a clown. 

But then with each passing week, 

I watched him struggle to stay up straight; 

I imagined him feeling like a freak, 

In his little corner, far from his mates. 

Over time, it seemed he'd accepted his lot, 

And did his best to not feel bereft; 

He would swim valiantly to the feeding pot, 

But there was often nothing left. 

Then, little fish, he grew weak and tired, 

And his little heart beat towards its end; 

But still it looped and bobbed as required, 

without a hope, or chance, or friend. 

And then one day there it lay, 

sideways in the golden sand; 

I found myself blinking tears away, 

As we scooped it in our hand. 

I sometimes think of that little fish, 

upside-down, whether by choice or circumstance; 

and when I do, I can't help but wish- 

that somewhere he's smiling and doing a dance. 

Being seen as 'different' can often hurt, 

It can be a blessing but is often a curse; 

But when I picture that fish, there in the dirt- 

I know that being alone is so much worse.