M1 Abrams sprockets, 
Crawled on the arid sand,
In the graveyard of empires, 
Known as Afghanistan. 

They were deployed to kill a beast,
That was manufactured in discretion, 
Through sorcery & science, 
To create a chemical weapon. 

Halted tanks raised their cannons, 
Aiming at a lone eerie cloud, 
That flickered and emitted sparks, 
Mumbling ambient Jurassic sound. 

Rounds of chromium steel, 
With engraved runes flew asunder, 
Pierced the transparent membrane, 
Waking the beast from its slumber. 

Exploding like an air-burst shell,
The cloud rained bright droplets of ire,
Causing the tank's armours to buckle, 
Engulfing the desert with wrathful fire. 

Bloodied and burnt mutilated soldiers,
Crawled out of the tanks they'll abandon, 
For they overestimated their ability, 
To conquer the White Phosphorus Dragon.