The Soundtrack of My Life

When I was little,

I called my father’s playlist “The Jukebox”,

packed with thousands of songs

I identified solely by their sounds.


There are pictures of my younger-self wearing band t-shirts,

The Clash, Led Zeppelin, and Queen, to name a few,

chosen by the taste of my parents,

worn reluctantly based on colors that pleased my eye.


I saw music as a simple form of entertainment,

sometimes even background noise

that I would endure for my parents’ sake,

as they played their favorites on repeat.


I recently made my own playlist,

simply titled “childhood songs”,

composed of nostalgic songs that I vividly recall

for their rhythms and beats.


As I listen to this playlist now,

I have a profound realization:

My parents have instilled maturity in me from my birth,

through the artists that did the same for them.


Some of the contents on “childhood songs”

are rather melancholy and deep -

Amy Winehouse, Joy Division, The Smiths -

tragic tales of life and death that transcend time.

Others are simply bizarre, but acknowledged for their genius -

Björk, Depeche Mode, Marilyn Manson  

posing as early introductions

to radical art forms.


Perhaps the largest revelation,

was when artists were “discovered” by myself

years later, a newfound appreciation

blossoming to its fullest potential.


I now listen to my parents’ favorite musicians

with a more mature perspective.

I can now appreciate the lyrics, the instrumentals,

the artists themselves, as they deserve to be.


And as a young adult,

I can bond with my parents

over what we all hold most valuable:

the power of a great song.


This poem is about: 
My family


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