Gone for a toss

Whose happiness is greater than whose
And whose sadness will you choose
They are the two sides of the same coin
Heads of happiness have tails of sadness
While the hearts are stuck in the middle
With their vain attempts to sort the riddle
Judgments will be passed, poems written
But to the nightly warmth we all return.
The dawn is without answers in stone
And the struggle starts again alone.
Libraries of answers stacked in memory
Never become the sufficient armory
The shield is lowered, the protection ceased
Hunt is on with the booby traps greased
With all this we grow many layers of skin
And a widely misunderstood sheepish grin.