I Am His Tormentor

He spent on my funeral more
Than he had spent on my treatment.
He shed on my body his tears
That he withheld when I was held.
He got mine with no gratitude.
In my death anniversary,
He feasted like of which I didn’t eat.
He remembers with reverence
To nullify the contempt shown.
I am in his thought, in the form of guilt.
It’ll be slit by his son’s action later.