Answer:
Walk on the living, they donβt even mumble. Walk on the dead, they mutter and grumble
Runs over fields and woods all day. Under the bed at night sits not alone, With long tongue hanging out, Resting at your feet until we go for a walk
What do you purposefully put lots of in and on your body, but run away from when you encounter it outside?
Ripped from my mother's womb. Beaten and burned, I become a blood thirsty killer.
Runs smoother than any rhyme, loves to fall but cannot climb.
I am used for light yet I am solid. Without me you would feel enclosed. I hate being touched especially with a lot of force. I like to be in buildings.