Running away from home

How can the death be looking so pretty?

It's been 2 days now. I know someone is looking for me. But they can't catch up. I have walked straight every hour. I haven't slept at all. I am so tired I could fall asleep anytime, but it's too cold.

Today I met this man. I walked past him. He was sitting on the ground with a black blanket to keep him warm. He had a coffee mug next to him with some coins in it. He offered me his 4 coins someone gave him. The mug was now empty.I thanked him a lot, and went inside a shop. I had a little money left, so I bought a bun. Then I walked back to the man, giving him the half of it. It made his day. He was so happy, and gave me a hug. I then continued my journey.

I didn't want anyone to find me, and tell my parents. I will just not see my parents again. They would kill me. So I walked into the forest even though I am leaving foot prints after me. They are following me because they have nowhere to go. The trees was piled up high, with snow hanging on the branches. The sun shines trough the none leaves, but makes the snow shine. Is it possibly that something that sad can be so pretty? Maybe that's what God tells us. That death is pretty. Or what is left when you die. Or where you will end up. Or maybe he just wanted us to think it was pretty how it was. I don't get God so often. I still believe in him, but I question him. He is powerful and can do everything. He is nice and kind. But if you think about war. He could rather not stop it, makes him not powerful, or he wants entertainment, makes him not nice. I don't even know if he is a man like person or woman like. Everyone calls him for a he, so I guess he's a man.

The snow is getting into my clothes, leaves me wet. The farther I go inside the forest, the deeper I will sink in the snow. I keep on going, praying to God no one finds me. But God didn't hear me.