Walls, a roof, and not much more

I want to move.

This house is breaking apart.

The wood is rotting, the paint is chipping,
And the floors are wearing away.

The walls shudder, the foundation shakes,
And I feel the structure sway.

The black mold is probably killing me,
This house will own my soul.

The shadows haunting this place
Will linger after it is no longer whole.

Naught but fear can contain my tears,
For what salt water droplets have ever
Kept a house from breaking apart?