The Human Condition (poem)

Quantify success, for I calculate
That any answer has no telling trait.
One man's hell can be another's lover --
So show me one who will thus discover

Any universal and agreed stick
To measure joy that is not a vain trick.
The doubt which follows leads many astray,
And though I wish for nothing but to stay.

Past success cannot sustain happiness --
But tragedy follows any excess:
Where lies the balance, where sits perfection?
If I'm right, in introspection.

To accept one's flaws is a kind blessing
But one which requires a life of stressing.
We did not sign up, but we choose
To continue -- no one wishes to lose

This chance to breathe, exist and empathise --
Regardless of the times we despise.
As life goes on, so does evolution --
The human condition: no solution.