She is my wings

Soft feathers 

Each one carefully layered on top of the other

A stylish mohawk accompanied by a permanent scarlet blush 

A prominent small bright yellow streak above her beak

Splotches of white on her wings

Yellow striped pants

Secret pants

The sounds of her happy beak grinding

The noise makes me cringe

But I deal with it because I know it means she’s happy 

Her screams and screeches are my alarm in the morning

That lets me know that I slept too long despite it being the weekend

Everything that I have she wants  

The tantrums she throws every time I won’t let her eat everything she wants

So much attitude in such a small body

I bought a bird but got a toddler instead 

If I happen to look at her wrong she hisses at me

Despite her being the one that chose to perch on my shoulder

She always smells like fresh clean laundry 

Despite her always exploding dust and feathers everywhere at random

Her mohawk tells me her mood

Up, Alert

Down, Calm

Every shirt is her own personal poop shirt

She doesn’t even know that she is what I wanted in my life since I was in 6th grade

She is my stress reliever

My distraction from all the stress

Without her the world was quiet 

Now the world is never boring with her around

She is my wings