You wonder why it is that they always hurt you. They also make you hurt others. You shut out the pain and cut them down. Puppets. You pretend the other kids are the same as the training puppets earlier. The screams are muted. You only hear the sounds of your blades and their blades. Everyone is dying.
This is what the training is every day, every month, every year since you were taken. You don’t know how long you have been in this place. The only thing that matters is survival. Survival and the crown. The others have made a crown out of scrap metal and glass shards, because that is all you have when you’re not made to fight others. The one who owns the crown is in charge. You only want to be left in peace. When you have the crown, the others will leave you alone. Or be left in pieces.
The crown is symbolic - it cannot be worn without pain, it cannot be gained without pain, it cannot be held without pain. Nobody wants to be a ruler here.
When writing this one, the greatest hints were the recurring metallic sounds that I immediately associated with blades. It was the young sounding voice and the crown in the lyrics that made me think of a horrific death camp for kids.
Requested by Hax Silverstone.