The speaker offers a bleak piece of advice about heartbreak: the only way to heal is to hand your pain to other people. The opening, "it seems to me," makes this sound like a private conclusion, something learned the hard way rather than a rule meant for everyone. There is no comfort in it. The speaker has stopped hoping the hurt will simply fade.
The title is what makes the poem so striking. "Crown of Tears" suggests a kind of royalty built out of suffering, and "Ancient Artifact" suggests that this reaction is very old, something people have always done. Then the last line, "wear it like spoils of war," turns the pain into a trophy, as if hurting others were a victory. The mood is bitter, hard, and a little defiant, but the short, broken lines also feel tired. Underneath the toughness, the speaker may simply be a person who is still hurting badly and doesn't know where else to put it.