The point isn't the prayer, it's praying.
When you clasp your hands in prayer you're holding the hand of someone who's asking for help. You're giving aid. You are accepting help.
No one is listening but you.
The explicit content of a prayer -- 'Our father who art in Heaven,' that sort of thing -- is a benign madness taken on provisionally. It's a fiction. We enter into the fiction because belief changes us. Faith lifts us up. By 'faith' I don't mean 'thinking God is real'; what a nasty, ignorant, desiccated view of faith that is, and I'm sorry ever to have held it.
Faith is openness. Joyful uncertainty.
See: I'm kneeling. I'm listening to the silence. I'm part of the silence. I'm speaking. I'm part of the sound. I'm the only one here, but someone may hear; something will come of this.
Not 'something good.' Just new. Just now and next.
The point of the prayer is the moment of praying, which is removed from (which removes us from) the circumstance of needing to pray.
We think and speak and hear ourselves, and we are transformed.
Others think and speak and we hear them, and we are transformed.
Insisting that a prayer be 'correct' is a category error. Prayers are works of art. They bridge the gulf between us. They need only be true.
Every prayer is an elaboration of 'Here I am.'