Answer:
A person who chews the ends of their fingers
Everybody's got one.
Each morning I appear to lie at your feet, all day I follow no matter how fast you run. Yet I nearly perish in the midday sun.
What can get you there in eco style, pushed by your legs mile after mile?
The buyer doesn’t want it, the producer doesn’t need it and the user doesn’t know their using it.
I break away from my pack. I create holes in my victims. I can travel for miles and then disappear. I am part of a dying breed. What am I?