A stream of blood flows from my eye, day and night; is it my spectacle lens, or merely a wound's blight?

This powerful couplet captures the essence of unending sorrow. The poet describes a state where tears flow constantly, like blood, day and night. The pain is so profound that the poet himself questions the source of the visible leakage—is it merely the lens of his glasses, or is it an actual, open wound? It speaks to the deep, physical toll that unrequited love and grief can take on the soul.