Sometimes the first draft of a poem is all you need:

You fell apart today
The opposite of what you wanted happened.
Somebody misspoke.
Your interpretations were false.
Though they may have been true.
Will you ever know?

You were wrong today
The meaning you had in mind got lost.
Twisted into truth.
It came across as it would.
Do you think you could have guessed?
Would it have made a difference?

You lost today
The things you are most afraid of seemed true.
You knew all along.
That you would be left like this.
There could be another option.
Will you open yourself to it?