TRAINCAR HALLWAY

I’m a railway car filled with tar.
I’m splashing and staining.
Covering up the scars.
Thick black make-up like 
an impervious, alloyed-suit.
I do well in smaller groups.
Don’t stand beside me because
that's where my tar pukes.
I travel only to be drained of my insides before making a long trip home alone. 
I’m either empty or filled with pain.
The traincar hallway.