Mix me up and let me dry, or pour me up to scrape the sky, or scrape your knee on me and cry.

When you don't know what I am, I am something, When you know what I am, I am nothing. What am I?

The first five are empty, seen yet vast. My last three serve bottles, filled and fast. Together I'm struck, but never scarred I split your words, a faithful guard.

My first three letters dance across a page My last seven are the best, none can upstage But right before the end is me, never last, but one away

I can spark a flame with just a strike, or pit two teams in a game alike. I’m found when partners fit just right. Tell me my name, both day and night.