Read Poetry: War Cry, by Megan OKeeffe

Don’t open my door if you aren’t going to close it when you leave
Are you listening to me?
I deserve respect no matter my size or shape, just like everyone else
I am not some object to conquer or kill

Are you listening to me?
The Taliban cannot just board my dusty school bus and fire three shots at me
I am not some object to conquer or kill
You, with your rough whiskers, must face the consequences of what you take

The Taliban cannot just board my dusty school bus and fire three shots at me

You are right to fear that I may know too much, that education is serving me right
You, with your rough whiskers, must face the consequences of what you take
I am learning that a woman is worth more than just how much she can please a man

You are right to fear that I may know too much, that education is serving me right
Do your worst, I will still be standing against you at the end of each day
I am learning that a woman is worth more than just how much she can please a man

My name is Malala, your bullets will not silence me

Do your worst, I will still be standing against you at the end of each day
I deserve respect no matter my size or shape, just like everyone else
My name is Malala, your bullets will not silence me
You cannot just close this door after you open it