Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome

Here they come marching in,
They appear when my night does start.
I never know when it will end,
Sometimes each class plays a part.

Once I had two squared equals eight,
And amazingly x divided by 0 equaled pi.
Over these answers I did deliberate,
But all discussions ended with a tie.

Then Trig functions chanted in my head,
And word problems streamed through my mind,
Reminding me of problems I should have done before bed.
Often though my alarm clock is kind,
And wakes me quickly from this recurring nightmare,
Though I’ve not had a math class in many a year.