Noun of no renown

Woe, oh woe is I
On vagueness can no-one rely
Passed away. Passed on
Called home to the great beyond
Grim Reaper sinks to early grave
In euphemistic tidal wave
Dead.
Death.
Gone.
Word catches. Throat constricts
I am sorry that he is … dead
D E A D
But no. He is gone. Passed. At rest.
Like a sleeping, slumbering, garrulous guest
He has not passed! Is not as rest!
He is … dead.
D E A D
Four letters. Evenly balanced.
Handy. Succinct. Economical.
Should be entirely marketable.
Two vowels; two consonants. Or perhaps just one — separated.
No escape ... severed; scattered, sundered
Life as we know it numbered.
Unlike a wrong’d apostrophe
Death is no late catastrophe.
Contractions, too, new-fangled fashion
Death, a tarnish’d intermission
Life. Not just a letter dropped.
The candle snuffed, spirit cropped.
We, doomed to life, let’s lay to rest
euphemism’s verbose breath
When I am gone — dead — say it please
Do not make cryptic what is plain
But call death by her own sweet name