Patience through Ink

I used to get angry with little mistakes
and I suppose I still do,
but when I fill my fountain pens,
I become deliberate.
Do I still get ink on myself? Yes, I do.
Do I still get angry for this failing? No.
Not even if it’s India ink?
No.
Not even if it’s my own blood?
No.
My ink-stained hands
are not my own
and knowing this
has made all the difference.