Strapped to my chest

Heartbroken because of my defeats. These boys have yet again to make it a smooth trail of sun flowers and star light leading me through the forest of all my ruins. Constantly trying to connect to your being primarily seems as hard as me searching for God. Maybe both are just as taboo. Isn't it faith I lack in both of you? Records that will never have solitary truth? 

But missing the connection between my safety and haven comes with a price of sacrifice and compromise. Compromises outside of my jurisdiction. I don't mean to be reluctant but the beat to my heart feels as if its touching foreign grounds. 

Praying is the only way I feel connected to my plee, to my faith in knowing if you just practiced me, you'd never question the universes conspiracies.