12. I Hit The Dog

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Loui Crow - Streaming Everywhere

I hit the dog. That broke me apart.
He could choke out my breath, he could fracture my heart.
But what sickened me most wasn't him, it was me—
something I swore I'd never be.

[VERSE 1]
I remember the closet—his grip on my throat,
Strangling my breath till my body went cold.
I blackout, I fade… I still cook that night,
Dinner in silence—survival disguised as polite.
I remember the suicide play on the floor,
Pills in his mouth like a prayer he can't afford.
I save him—force vomit, spit bile back black,
Life stains the carpet, his pulse still intact.
The dog watches shaking, his body all twitch,
He learned what I learned—affection can switch.
Silent recorder, rewinds in his eyes,
Etching the lesson—that love weaponized.
Next day the dog's head smacks my nose—SNAP!
Didn't think—my hand cracked his jaw like a trap.
Split-second surge, nerves lit, guilt in my grip,
And the second it landed, I struck him — I hit.

[PRE-CHORUS]
I've been choking on silence, it drills in my ear.
I become the thing I swore I'd never let near.
The echo in my fist haunts me right here.
And his eyes flash back the man I most fear.

[CHORUS]
I hit the dog—'cause I broke too late.
I hit the dog—there's no escape.
I hit the dog—and I'm not proud.
I hit the dog—say it out loud.
I hit the dog—and he still loves me.
I hit the dog—and I know I must leave.
I hit the dog—I saw the monster in me.
I hit the dog—now I have to leave.

[VERSE 2]
I never strike him again—but I still hear the sound,
My fist finding fur, guilt ricochets loud.
It scares me more than anything he ever does,
'Cause for a second I saw how abusers are spun.
They're forged in the silence, shaped under fear,
Programmed by power, the cycle appears.
And if I don't name it—if I just move on,
I'm one bad day from passing it on.
So I write it. Spill truth before it can rot,
Drag it to daylight, give the truth a spot.
I won't raise a child in a house built on pain,
I won't trade my body to God for his name.
Not my vow, not my leash, not my womb, not my role,
That's why I confess: I hit the dog to stay whole.
So I never forget what it costs to stay soft,
I carry the proof—I survived, and I stopped.

[CHORUS]
I hit the dog—'cause I broke too late.
I hit the dog—there's no escape.
I hit the dog—and I'm not proud.
I hit the dog—say it out loud.
I hit the dog—and he still loves me.
I hit the dog—and I know I must leave.
I hit the dog—I saw the monster in me.
I hit the dog—now I have to leave.

[BRIDGE]
That's the moment I break—it cuts deeper than fists,
Not the choke, not the scripture, not the threats in his lips.
Not the night I return to the closet of wire,
Dog strung by a leash, body hung to expire.
What wrecks me is softer—the part I can't shake,
That he licked my wrist after every mistake.
That he loved me through terror, through silence, through sin,
And I don't feel deserving of love through the ruin.

[CHORUS]
I hit the dog. I hit the dog.
I hit the dog. I hit the dog.
Not because of him—
Because of everything before him.
I hit the dog. I hit the dog.
I hit the dog. I hit the dog.
And I walk with that memory in my spine.
I hit the dog. The burden is mine.

[OUTRO]
I hold the shadow.
I become one for a second.
I hit the dog.
That's when I know:
I can't raise a child in this house.
I can't live inside a leash.
I can't go another day pretending.
I feel what power does—
and I don't want it.

Loui Crow

I make music, practice mirror work, sometimes I do somatic rage fits, and small forms of magick that help me stay present and kind while things change.

I write songs for myself, my inner child, and for the woman I am becoming.
I work through old patterns, grief, and survival habits as I notice them loosening.

Sometimes I write as the Crow — that's my ideal self. Direct, unattached, protective, grounded in something older than my fear. Other voices come through too. The snake. The spider. The fly. The ghosts are the false selves I created to survive. I write as all of them, for my own self-hypnosis — unpacking who I've been so that my son can fill his days with joy and I can stop being such a reactive parent. I'm in the middle of it all. I just keep showing up.

I use Suno for vocals and instrumentals — the vocals are seeded from my own voice. I'm a disabled veteran and a stay-at-home mom.

Over the last year, I climbed an emotional ladder I didn't know I was on. Many of my earlier releases were the scream — my depression, anger, insecurity.

The last album that came out of that climb is called "Mirror, Mirror off the Wall." It starts with depression and ends with gratitude.

Much of what lives here carries the influence of Louise Hay and Abraham Hicks, especially the idea that my body listens to my thoughts — and that where I place my attention, my life follows.

I leave breadcrumbs in case anyone resonates.

Take what feeds you.
Leave the rest for the birds.

I am molting.
You are welcome here.

https://louicrow.com
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13. Now, Why Does He Do That?