DONNA: They look different to the others.
DOCTOR: That's because they're natural born Ood, unprocessed, before they're adapted to slavery. Unspoilt. That's their song.
DONNA: I can't hear it.
DOCTOR: Do you want to?
DONNA: Yeah.
DOCTOR: It's the song of captivity.
DONNA: Let me hear it.
DOCTOR: Face me.
DOCTOR: Open your mind. That's it. Hear it, Donna. Hear the music.
DONNA: Take it away.
DOCTOR: Sure?
DONNA: I can't bear it.
DONNA: I'm sorry.
DOCTOR: It's okay.
DONNA: But you can still hear it.
DOCTOR: All the time.
HALPEN: Come on. What's the hold up?
RYDER: It's the experimentation lab. Maximum security. He's fused the system.
HALPEN: Don't just stand there, get the bolt cutters. Rip that door off. Solana, go back to the reps, I don't want any of them wandering off and seeing this. And get them away from the Ood, just in case. Hurry up!
SOLANA: Yes, sir.
The poem thing is about Donna. Of course it is.
Because I was thinking. Being able to hear it, in this metaphor, is sort of easy-mode. May turn the lokwethvolume up on how sad and hurt you are, privileged outsider. But it doesn't, necessarily, correlate with what you do.
Because you might notice — throughout, she's the most empathetic action-wise. Material social progress. 'Actually doing stuff'. Et cetera.
(Maybe it's because she's a person* and she's lived a life? But out from personing she doesn't seek to become unmoored and something, like Clara or Rose, she just is, kind and trustworthy and against bullshit. Wonderful.)
*more persony than Doctorish
I think something like the poem might have even happened, her-la, sometime.
I mean, depends on how strictly you interpret 'like this', it definitely did. Finding and breaking each other out of false-worlds is just what these two do. (Remember the Library for probably the most example, but also this again…)